


Faevor for a Faevor

by Serafaerosa



Series: Profaecy [1]
Category: Lost Girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:25:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 65,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serafaerosa/pseuds/Serafaerosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set a short time after the events of episode 302 – ‘SubterrFaenean’. Bo is determined to understand the significance of the image fading from the Weaver’s spindle, and is sent to meet a Seer who can discern the context of her dreams. Before they meet, the Seer is kidnapped, and Bo must rescue her if she’s to understand what’s happening to her. But something far more nefarious seems to be underfoot…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Well, this is my first fanfic in a decade. Constructive criticism is more than welcome, kindness is greatly appreciated. I began this story shortly after watching ‘Confaegion’, and completed the storyline just before ‘Fae-ge Against the Machine’, so there are some parallels to the TV episodes, and variations as the story unravels. The story is complete, and I will be posting at least one chapter a week, two if one or both are particularly short. Also, this is unbeta-ed, so all mistakes are mine alone.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Lost Girl; no copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

Bo scanned the interior of the dimly lit café. The sour smells of burnt food and stale coffee assaulted her nose. The fluorescent lights flickered sporadically, highlighting the grime that caked the walls. The floor under her black leather boots was sticky, and she wondered when a health inspector had come by the establishment last. Regardless of the dirt and inedible quality of the food, however, the incessant chatter of customers assaulted her ears, the language of the speakers often broken and dirty. 

After the faded, feral image she’d seen on the Weaver’s spindle, Bo had hardly been able to suppress the nightmares, and had been left with more questions than ever. Unable to voice her fears to any of her friends, she’d gotten back in touch with Mayer, the Dark Fae Luck-Eater that had proven time and again to be a valuable contact. He, in turn, sent her here.

The Succubus shrugged deeper into her jacket, brows knit as she gave the café another sweep, almost wishing she’d brought Kenzi along. But her sharp-tongued friend knew nothing of Bo’s nightmares, of her fears, and Bo would not tell her. Kenzi had her own problems to deal with.

A girl with short-cropped mousey curls and bright green glasses glanced up at the door and caught Bo’s eyes. With an uncertain squint, she half-rose out of her seat and raised a hand. Bo strode toward her purposefully and slipped into the chair opposite her. If she stood in the entrance much longer, she was likely to bring too much attention to herself, which she just didn’t want.

“Seth?” Bo fixed the woman across the small, filthy table from her with an evaluating stare. Mayer had indicated to her that the person she was looking for would be older. That she had come from old money, old wisdom and old fashion. Truth be told, Bo was surprised at the address she’d been given for the meeting, but hadn’t much questioned it. Now, she was even more taken aback to find the scrappy younger girl she was meeting with. Dressed in a tattered and torn leather jacket, a tight cotton shirt that had obviously seen better days and worn jeans that at least fit right, the Fae that greeted her was anything but old, wise, rich, or fashionable. She just looked like an ordinary, somewhat intimidated girl.

“Maia, actually.” She offered a clean, surprisingly soft hand to shake. Her skin was cold to the touch. “I guess that makes you Bo?” Freckles dusted her face and small brown eyes searched hesitantly for an affirmative.

“I thought I was meeting Seth?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. And sorry about the last minute location change. I can explain.” Maia pursed her lips, looking nervous. She tucked her hands under her and hunched over. Bo noticed how pale her cheeks were, her skin looked almost yellow under those damn flickering lights.

A minute passed in silence. The Succubus raised an eyebrow impatiently and shifted in her seat.

“So?” She prompted.

Just as Maia opened her mouth, a bored-looking waitress stepped over, tapping the nub of her pencil against her order pad.

“What’ll it be, folks?”

“Oh, coffee, for me. Thanks.” Maia rushed in with her request, looking relieved at the interruption.

“Make it two.” Bo didn’t even look up, only stared intently at the girl across from her. Both her arms crossed over the table. The waitress looked lazily from one to the other, rolled her eyes and turned away.

“So?” Bo repeated once the waitress was out of earshot.

Maia gulped and pressed her lips together again.

“Seth’s missing,” she chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully, then, seeming to gain some small amount of courage, tilted her head and looked at Bo in a way the Succubus could only describe as ‘critically’. “I’m not Fae. I can’t help you with your problem.” Bo shifted almost to leave, but cold hands darted out to grasp at Bo’s from across the table. “But maybe you could help me. And Seth.”

Bo’s brows drew together in a frown, and she settled back into her seat. The waitress came around again and plunked a pair of mugs on their table, oblivious to the exchange. Greasy brown liquid spilled onto the stained surface and Bo looked down at the so-called ‘coffee’ in disgust.

“I thought Seth was coming to help _me_.” She wrinkled her nose as she drew the mug closer to her. The liquid inside swirled brown and tan, and she could swear there was the sheen of oil across the top.

Maia tipped her own mug and took a sip, then suppressed a grimace and shrugged.

“At least it’s hot…” She mumbled. Brown eyes met brown eyes again over their steaming drinks, and Maia sighed. “Like I said: Seth’s gone missing. She was kidnapped this morning. I didn’t know who else to go to.”

“So you changed the meeting place and decided to come yourself?”

“Well, she never told me where you were supposed to meet. I knew it wasn’t here, this place isn’t her style...” Maia trailed off, giving the café a cursory glance before settling her attention back on the Succubus. “Look. Seth’s a talented Seer. I don’t know what the deal is, but I know you’d called her with a problem. I need to find her, and word is, you’re a pretty good P.I.” Maia took another gulp of her coffee. Bo wondered how she could possibly drink this slop. “So. Help me find her and she’ll pay you with solving your issue.”

Sometime in the ten minutes between catching Bo’s attention from across the café and this moment, Maia had lost her timidity. She spoke earnestly, relating her fears to the stranger across the table like a trusted friend. Bo considered her proposal for a moment.

“If you’re human, I guess that makes you Seth’s…” Bo winced and spat out the word, “… pet.” Maia didn’t even blink. Bo took that for agreement. With a resigned sigh, she nodded. “Tell me what you know.”

The human scooted closer, but before she had a chance to speak, Bo raised a hand to stop her. “Not here. This place stinks, and I think there’s a roach in my coffee. Come on.”

Apprehension flitted across Maia’s face for an instant, but she shrugged and dropped a ten on the table before rising and trotting obediently after Bo.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Kenzi!” Bo called, shutting the door to her home with a light click. Maia stood just inside, holding her arms and looking around wordlessly.

“Hey Bo-balicious. Where ya been all day?” Kenzi came bouncing down the steps into the kitchen, impossibly high stilettos clicking against the floor sharply. She was wearing her favorite red jeans again, with the crosshairs on one back pocket, and her signature corset over a tight, lacy black tank top. Her straight black hair fell into her eyes, cut short and in a slant parallel to her jaw. The human hopped around the doorway from the stairs, going straight for the cookies Lauren had baked fresh for them the day before, grinning infectiously, and stopped mid-bounce at the sight of their visitor. “We picking up strays now, sweetmeat?” The little punk-lolita gave the other human an appraising look, noting the slightly unkempt appearance and the shy smile she offered in greeting.

“She’s our next client,” Bo explained, leading the way into the kitchen.

“Hi. I’m Maia,” her voice was soft, hesitant. Pale fingers fluttered an echo to her greeting. “Bo said ya’ll would find my owner,” she offered in explanation. Bo winced, and Kenzi stared wide eyed at the newcomer.

“Your… owner?” Kenzi squeaked, her face a mask of incredulity. The cookies remained untouched.

“Maia’s human,” Bo frowned and maneuvered herself around the island in the kitchen, trailing a hand companionably across Kenzi’s shoulders. “Her…”

“Owner,” Maia supplied with indifference.

“Right. She was kidnapped,” Bo finished, still frowning, and turned to grab a glass from the cupboard behind her and began filling it with water.

“So… shouldn’t that be something the powers that be deal with?” Kenzi looked from Bo to Maia, a little confused and more than a little wary and suspicious.

“The Morrigan doesn’t know,” Maia stepped back defensively and bit her lip, eyes growing wide with her anxiety, “and she can’t know. Ok? The Dark don’t care about humans or pets.”

“Woah, back up there Nelly. You’re Dark?!” Kenzi barked, her hands raising defensively in return. “Bo, did you know about this?”

Bo sighed and passed the glass of water over to Maia, who was wincing visibly at Kenzi’s alarm. But she accepted the offering gratefully.

“Wait!” A dark, leather clad figure in a striking hair cut flipped onto the back of the couch, “I do know you!” He cried and stared at the startled girl.

“Vex!” Maia’s mouth suddenly went dry, the blood drained from her face. 

“You’re the Seer’s pet! Ooohoohooh!” The Mesmer cooed in delight, clapped his hands and rose from his position on the couch. Lying there, buried under pillows and discarded clothes, he’d been completely hidden from view. Maia shook her head and took another step back, bumping into the island in her panic.

“No. Oh no. Nonononono…” She muttered, dark eyes darting back and forth. The only exit she could clearly see was past the Mesmer, through the door she’d entered from.

“He won’t say a word,” Bo’s voice was steel. She stared pointedly at the Dark Fae grinning gleefully at the scene and stepped back around to stand between Vex and Maia, “not that the Morrigan will even see him,” she glared daggers at Vex and raised a hand at Maia to steady the human.

“What’s the big deal anyway?” Kenzi piped up again, “shouldn’t it be the Morrigan’s problem if one of her peeps was Fae-napped?”

Maia licked her lips, her mouth dry, and shuffled her feet.

“Like I said. The Dark don’t care about pets. With Seth missing, I’m a loose end. A human who knows too much and has too little sense not to blab to the first person I meet about the Fae world. I’m under no one’s protection until Seth comes back,” her voice came at a croak, and she gulped the cold water in her hands greedily, trying to dampen her lips and throat and dispel her nerves.

“You’re under _my_ protection until Seth comes back. You got that?” Bo’s eyes never left the Mesmer’s as she drove the point home, more concerned that he understood that than Maia did.

“Oh now, darling, no need to get testy.” Vex fell backward into the couch. His legs dangled over the shabby furniture. “I’m sure it won’t take the Morrigan long to discover her favorite Seer’s disappearance, with or without anyone volunteering information.”

Bo strode over, forever annoyed by the squatter that lived on her couch, and bodily threw his feet to the floor. The wide grin on Vex’s heavily mascaraed face disappeared in a flash, and the now sulky Mesmer got up to lean instead against one of the more solidly boarded walls. At Bo’s beckon, Maia crept hesitantly to the couch and sat on the edge, obviously nervous and uncomfortable. She held her empty glass of water in a death grip without seeming to realize it and stared down into it, as if trying to divine answers from the cool, colorless glass. Bo sat beside her. She slid a hand into Maia’s lap, warm, calming power radiating from the Succubus’ skin to the human’s.

“Tell me what happened.”

The couch dipped on Bo’s other side as Kenzi joined them, leaning over to watch the girl tell her story.

 

  
 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Golden afternoon sunlight filtered through the slats across the clubhouse’s grimy windows, turning the otherwise dull purple nail polish on Maia’s fingers a bright violet luster. She fiddled with her fingers, picking at nothing while she considered her explanation.

“Seth’s a Seer. One of the oldest, and one of the best. She sees truths and receives visions, which she communicates to the Morrigan.” Maia took a deep breath. The Morrigan, leader of the Dark Fae, clearly frightened and unnerved her. “This morning, Seth went to see an old client of hers. A shifter. Dolph.”

“I thought Seth was retired?” Vex interjected. All his attention was on the human sitting before him. Black hair fell in a curtain across half his face and he brushed it away carefully.

“I thought Seth was a boy’s name.” Kenzi quipped, playing with her hair and feigning disinterest. “Or was that not important back in the dinosaur age?”

“Nobody calls her Sethria anymore.” The acid in Maia’s tone took Kenzi by surprise, and the pixie-esque punk raised her hands apologetically, “and she never retired. Just got more selective, more careful, about who she saw. Who she worked for.”

“Workin’ with Dolph is hardly selective. He’s a bloody beast.” The Mesmer interrupted again, his tone suspicious, “likes to play with his food, and not in a sweet, sexy, succubus-ty way.”

“And you don’t?” Maia snapped.

Bo squeezed Maia’s knee, bringing her attention back to the Succubus.

“Tell us about her last appointment, before she disappeared,” Bo prompted, voice quiet, but insistent.

An almost hurt expression seemed to cross the girl’s face, but vanished as quickly as it came. Her nerves were noticeably frayed. Kenzi wondered when she’d slept last, if she’d eaten at all in the past couple of days. Maia pulled long, thin fingers through her hair, brushing out the tight curls fretfully.

“She never tells me details. Just that she has an appointment. Sometimes she’ll tell me with whom, but not where or why. She never lets me come with her either,” there was a note of bitterness in her voice, barely detectible, “she left early this morning. When she came back, she was shaking. I don’t know if she was angry, or if she was scared…” she trailed off, her gaze going far away, remembering the last time she’d seen her. “She wouldn’t say anything. Wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. And then- “ her voice trembled for a moment, and she sucked in a deep, stabilizing breath, “I could hear tires screeching. People were shouting outside. She grabbed my arm, threw me to the stairs… She told me to hide. So I did,” shame crept into her voice. “It didn’t sound like much of a struggle. They were laughing. They didn’t think – or didn’t bother – to look for me.” Maia stared blankly at the hands in her lap, fingers curled gently inward. She tilted her digits, watching the polish turn from dull purple to hot violet and back again emotionlessly.

Maia raised her face, glasses flashing in the bright sunlight. They were speckled with dust. “I didn’t know who else to go to. I can’t go to the Morrigan. The Light won’t care. But you’re unaligned. And they say you treat your human well,” she bit her lip and wiped her damp hands against her jeans. She looked desperate.

Bo sighed. It wasn’t much to go on.

“Is there anything else you can tell me?”

Maia shook her head, exhaling heavily and dropping her face into her hands.

“That’s all well and good, but I still don’t see why you didn’t go to the Morrigan with this,” Vex glowered, distrustful of her motivations for seeking out the unaligned Succubus over her owner’s own people. “I’m sure there are plenty of Dark Fae that would have gone on your behalf. Isn’t Ryan a favorite of the Seer’s?” he leered.

“You really have been gone a while, haven’t you?” Maia let out a breathy, unconvincing laugh, “Seth’s been working with both Dark and Light. Ever since the Garuda came. The Morrigan’s furious with her. I can’t be sure she isn’t the one behind the whole thing,” her jaw clenched, “she’d help Seth about as much as she’d help you.”

“We’ll find her, Maia. Just… try to relax,” Bo put an arm across disheveled shoulders, and Maia nodded, head back in her hands once again, “what do you know about this Shifter, Dolph?”

Maia sniffed and pulled her glasses off. They skittered across the coffee table and she massaged her temples, trying to hold off her panic.

“Just that his name’s Adolphus. And he’s vicious. Seth really doesn’t like him dropping in at the apartment, she was furious with him for coming by unannounced a couple of days ago.”

“He’s a Bear. Quite literally,” Vex supplied, “he’s freelanced as a bouncer at Carpe Noctum a few times. Usually hires himself out as muscle to anyone that asks for his services. Nasty fellow.”

“When did he drop by?” Bo caught on to her first lead, and leaned back to grab her jacket and stood to throw it on.

“The day before yesterday. I tried not to let him in, but he bowled right past me. Seth practically threw me out of the room,” Maia drew in a deep breath. Her voice was beginning to tremble, despite her efforts to keep calm, “I thought she was mad at me, but she came for me after he left. She wouldn’t tell me why he came. But she was afraid. She was trying not to let me see it, but I know her better than she thinks. I could see how scared she was.”

Vex straightened.

“I think I know where we can find him.”

The mousey-haired human jumped up, eager to move into action.

“Good. Let’s go.” Determination squared her shoulders, her mouth pressed into a thin, grim line.

Bo pressed a hand onto Maia’s shoulder, pressuring her to sit back down.

“No. You stay. Eat something, get some rest. If we find anything, we’ll call.” Bo’s voice was firm, but not unkind, and she turned her attention to Vex.

“Feel like going on a field trip, then?”

“I have to come. I have to help you find her!” Maia shrugged off Bo’s hand and looked from Bo to Vex and back again. Anger and determination were written plainly on her small face. Her shoulders were squared defiantly and her hands clenched into tight fists. Maia hated feeling useless.

“It’s too risky. Vex and I can handle this.” Bo’s words were final, and, with a little help from her Succubus touch, eventually succeeded in pushing the human back into the couch. “I’ll call you as soon as I know something. Okay?”

Kenzi scooted in closer to the girl and wrapped a thin arm protectively around her shoulders.

“Go do your Scooby thing. I got this.” She nodded for Bo to go on ahead, who, with a worried glance back at Maia, followed Vex down the hall and out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

It was cold outside. An ominous wind began to sweep its way through the streets, ushering people into their homes as the late afternoon sun crept over the sidewalks and through the windows of an old, run-down apartment building. It shone against the glass, and reflected mercilessly into the eyes of drivers and pedestrians alike. Bo shielded her eyes with a hand as she stared up at the derelict structure.

“Really? What is it with Shifters and broken-down buildings?” She scoffed. Vex shrugged behind her and pushed past her shoulder to lead the way in. The glass of the building’s double doors was smudged and dirty. A crack webbed its way down one corner. The floor was littered with shattered glass, of which the source was missing.

Dolph lived on the third floor, accessible only by narrow stairs. The pair walked them in silence. Bo watched Vex as she followed, distrust creasing her brow. If it came down to a fight, could she count on the Mesmer to back her at all?

Within a few short minutes, they stood at the doorway: a massive slab of metal that looked like the only solid piece in the whole structure. The Succubus and Mesmer shared a glance between them before Vex raised his fist and started pounding on the heavy door.

“Oi! Dolph! You in there, mate?” He shouted, still pounding. “Open the bloody door!”

Vex kept pounding, Bo raised an eyebrow at him and let out a sigh. It wasn’t as though they’d hear Dolph coming through this huge mass of steel anyway. Then the door hammered open, and Vex, mid-swing, stumbled into an enormous block of hard, heavy muscle. Glaring down at him were a pair of steely goldenrod eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes and a Neanderthal brow. A solid, crooked nose flared over thin, wide lips and thin cheeks flexed across high cheekbones as the heavy-set, heavily muscled monster of a man clenched his teeth and puffed hot air through his nose down at Vex.

The Mesmer at his fullest height only reached the Shifter’s shoulder. He had to peer up to meet the angry gaze.

“What the hell do you want, invalid?” His voice ground on Bo’s ears like stone on stone.

“Hey, who’re you calling an invalid?!” Vex cried back, indignantly.

“It doesn’t matter! Dolph, right?” Bo pushed past Vex impatiently and glowered up at the behemoth, “we need to ask you a few questions.”

Dolph squinted down at the Succubus for a few moments, his nostrils flaring in and out as he breathed hot, heavy breaths. Then he pulled his head back, and the sun framed his wispy black hair. It glowed in the light, and the Shifter seemed for an instant quite handsome to Bo.

“The unaligned Succubus. The Morrigan would bathe me in riches to bring her your head.” He responded, his voice so naturally deep it seemed to resound under Bo’s skin. She reached up to brush her fingers against his cheek, swarthy skin rough with the curly beard just beginning to grow out. Their skin glowed with Bo’s touch.

“You won’t bring her anything. Not even news that I’ve come.” Bo’s voice was soft, enticing. Dolph nodded once, bright eyes fastened to hers. She leaned gently against him, another hand resting just above his belly. Her lips parted seductively as she guided him inside, Vex following sulkily.

She settled Dolph calmly in one of his massive chairs and leaned against him. “Where’s Seth?” She murmured, seating herself on the chair’s arm. The hand she’d had on his chest wandered across his shoulders. A finger twirled playfully in his soft curls. He gazed up at her adoringly.

“Oh, get on with it, will ya?” Vex spat as he leaned himself against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and a petulant expression on his face. Bo ignored him and focused on the dangerous monster who, for now, was putty in her hands.

“I don’t know.” His throat shivered against her fingers with the depth of his voice. He leaned in close, breathing in her fragrance, staring longingly at her lips.

Bo leaned back a little, dipping her chin, avoiding his kiss.

“Who did you send to take her?” She tried. Her fingers ran over the rough contours of his face, exploring the dip of his chin with the weightlessness of a butterfly’s wing. Warm pulses raced from her hand to his cheek, he raised a heavy hand to brush tenderly over her shoulder.

“The Redcaps. Duncan.” His eyes closed, and he leaned back. She could feel him relax under her influence. His fingers pulled at her gently, he settled another hand on her waist. He ached to draw her closer, to close the distance between them. But she resisted his wanting touch.

“Why?” Her breath wafted across his skin, and his heavy black eyelashes fluttered in response.

“You’re so full of questions.” His chest rumbled with the statement, though Bo guessed this was what amounted to a whisper from him.

“Just tell me.” She brushed the backs of her fingers against his cheek and leaned in a little further. She could feel his consciousness begin to battle for control. They struggled for a second, his gentle grip on her tightening painfully, then his eyes opened, and they glittered coldly.

“No.”

Bo was losing this battle. Both gargantuan hands circled her waist and he pulled her forcefully into his lap. Dolph shuddered violently beneath her; she grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head back, opening her mouth to feed.

Soft blue light escaped him. He tasted like blood, metallic and warm. Wild. Dangerous. Savage. With a growl that escalated into a furious roar, he tore the Succubus off his lap and threw her like a ragdoll against the wall.

Bo shook her head and blinked, dazed. There was a dullness in the back of her skull, and colors seemed to swim in her vision. When she brushed her fingers against the back of her head, they came away hot and sticky. Vex was shouting and pulling at her, but she couldn’t make out the words past the strange buzz that crowded her hearing. Dolph was clutching himself, bent over double in the armchair she’d left him in, face scrunched up in pain and fury, and Vex finally managed to drag her to her feet, out the door and down the stairs.

 

  
 

* * *

 

 

 

Maia tapped the heel of her foot impatiently. She’d been reading the same passage in her book for the past hour, unable to focus on a single word. Kenzi had tried to distract her with small-talk, but Maia wasn’t in the mood. She’d procured the small paperback from a pocket inside her jacket and curled up on the couch, pretending to be absorbed in the story. But Maia was quite sure Kenzi knew she hadn’t actually been reading. If only she could concentrate… but her mind kept wandering to Seth, and where she was, and if Bo had somehow, miraculously found her.

And then Kenzi’s phone went off, and Maia couldn’t sit still any longer. Her feet fell to the floor and began tapping out a frantic beat as she strained to listen in on the call. So far, she’d gathered this much: it was Vex that called, they’d found Dolph, but the whereabouts of the missing Seer were still a mystery. With a frustrated sigh, Maia threw the book to the table and moved to stand, but found Kenzi standing in front of her. She held the phone absently in one hand and brushed her raven hair away from her face with the other. Her expression was unreadable.

“So that was Vex.” She ventured, slowly lowering her phone. Maia raised her eyebrows in response. “They got another lead. Succu-Bo’s gonna need some sexual healing first, but then she’ll be hot on the trail again. She wants you to stay here tonight.” It seemed obvious to Maia that Kenzi didn’t share the sentiment. The petite goth dropped into a squat, placing both hands on Maia’s knees. “And all things considered, that’s pretty sound advice.”

The grungy human bit her lip. Kenzi seemed in earnest. Brown eyes searched frank gray ones and were met with honest concern. Maia softened a little. Perhaps she’d misread Kenzi. Worry and impatience had bittered Maia’s view of the people she’d met in the hours since Seth’s disappearance, and she’d responded to everyone with an uncharacteristic distrust and undeserved resentment. Maia took a breath and closed her eyes. Regardless of Kenzi’s obvious concern and kind offer, Maia just wanted to go home, to be among everything familiar and dear to her. She thought it would give her the comfort she craved.

“No… I don’t want to impose…” She hesitated.

“There’s no imposing!” Kenzi jumped in, giving Maia’s knees a gentle shake. Maia raised a hand to stop her. She forced a smile, trying to look as reassuring and grateful as she possibly could.

“No. Thank you. I’ll go home.” She responded, much firmer this time. “I’ll be fine there, really.” She pushed Kenzi’s hands off her knees and stood around the crouching girl, bending only to pick up her discarded book and stuff it back into the large pocket lining the inside of her jacket.

“It’s safer for you here.” Kenzi spoke to Maia’s retreating backside as the tall, skinny human moved purposefully to the door. “Dolph sent Redcaps after Seth, Maia.”

This made Maia stop. She turned her face, and the sun’s setting rays glimmered through the dirt-crusted windows against her profile for an instant before they fell and twilight reigned.

“Bo will be back in a few hours. You’ll be much safer here.” Kenzi continued.

“She has her next lead. I’d rather she followed it than played Baby-Sitter’s Club with me.” Finality rang in Maia’s voice, and she turned her back once again. “They’re not after me, Kenzi. Or they’d have taken me this morning, when they came for her.”

Kenzi groaned in defeat. She’d tried, but it seemed there was nothing she could say to convince Maia to stay.

“Well, let me at least walk you back. Or take a cab with you. Bo won’t let me hear the end of it if I let you go home alone.” The Lolita grabbed her jacket, and without leaving any room for argument, linked an arm with Maia and walked with her out the door.

Truthfully, Maia was grateful for the company. She didn’t want to stay at the derelict clubhouse, but she wasn’t totally convinced that Duncan and his boys wouldn’t come after her. She was a loose end, after all, and the only reason she could find for having been left behind at the apartment was that they hadn’t been aware of her existence. Maia didn’t want to stay, to endanger Kenzi by seeking refuge at the drafty old house, and wanted, more than anything but to have Seth come home safe, to be home herself. But at least she wouldn’t be out on the streets alone. So she smiled at Kenzi, finding herself warming up to the really rather sweet girl, and suggested they try to find a cab. It wasn’t far to the apartment she shared with Seth, but that didn’t make it a short walk either.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You’re late.” A deep, rough voice growled from the darkness. A cold wind gathered in the alley, shadows crouching in the corners, spreading their arms across the narrow street that ended in a wall of dumpsters. The breeze picked up rubbish from the dirty asphalt, old candy wrappers, dried leaves, abandoned plastic bags. A tin soda can skittered across the ground, kicked by a scruffy, worn, black biker boot.

Three men, dressed in an assortment of denim and leather pants and jackets, and tight fitting cotton shirts emerged from the darkness blanketed across the entrance to the alley. The dim streetlights behind flickered and tires squealed in the near distance. The smell of burnt rubber permeated the frigid air.

A crazed grin curled across the lead man’s face. Thick, sticky, crimson liquid trickled down his unshaven cheek from the blood-soaked cap arranged carelessly over dark hair.

“Naw, mate. You’re early.” He responded, tone easy-going and calm. “You got what we came for?”

Yellow eyes flashed obliquely from the darkness that cloaked the mysterious voice. A large, heavy object thudded into a small metal suitcase, which toppled and ground against rough road in its two-foot trip into pale artificial light.

“Cheers!” The red-capped man clapped his hands together in delight and strode forward to retrieve it. His buddies behind snickered and eyed the suit-case gleefully.

A coarse, filthy hand reached down to grasp the case’s handle, and a monstrous, heavy foot fell upon it, crushing the wrist into the loose, sharp tarmac below. The Redcap yelped in pain and surprise and dropped lower to ease the angle and the serrated sting of edges digging into his skin.

“Where’s my package?” The voice rumbled again. It reverberated through the Redcaps’ chests and sent chills of fear down their spines. The lead Redcap panted and whimpered, too distracted by the bones splintering in his wrist to answer. One of his fellows darted forward to assist him, bending into a crouch to tackle the cloaked aggressor, and was promptly, easily flung away by a massive arm, bare to the elbow as far as the shadows revealed. The Redcap flew into the rough brick wall that hid the alley from curious eyes and crumpled breathlessly to the ground. His mate, only steps behind, staggered to a halt and stumbled over his feet as he veered away at the last moment. Pale blue eyes widened in sudden fear, and he flattened his sticky scarlet cap over rebellious dirty blond hair and crept instead to the Redcap that gasped and blinked in shock against the wall.

“Where’s my package?” The mysterious Fae repeated, his voice patient and impassive. The third Redcap flinched at the deep, resounding voice, fear filling his blue eyes like water in a small cup.

“On its way!” He cried. Hands flew across his face to shield him from the piercing yellow stare that settled on him now. “We just got the address! It’s on its way!” His voice was shrill with terror.

A long, clean, white incisor gleamed in the half-light of the streetlamps. A shadowed, feral grin crept hungrily across features too hidden to describe.

“Then we will wait.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Maia shivered against the cold. A frigid breeze had picked up just as she was getting out of the cab and blew her thick curly hair around her face. Kenzi shifted to get out as well, but Maia turned and crouched in her way. Her cold hands settled over one of Kenzi’s own, and her glasses flashed in the passing headlights of another car as it sped past.

“Don’t. Just go home. I don’t want to worry about you finding a taxi back at this hour.” Maia smiled wanly and offered the already protesting girl a wad of cash. “For the cab. Look, my apartment’s right here. There’s the door!” She pointed behind her. A tall, fancy apartment building loomed out of the darkness there, surrounded by buildings of the same high-rent caliber. Light from various apartments spilled into the freezing night. The glass door that led to the building’s reception area glowed like a beacon. “Really. I’ll be fine.” Maia reassured Kenzi, who looked back doubtfully. The wind picked up again. It whistled through the buildings, a lonely, keening cry.

“Fine. But I’m watching you go inside. You have mine and Bo’s phone numbers speed-dialed into your cell, right?” Kenzi still felt uneasy about letting Maia go home alone, but the curly haired human had made up her mind, and Kenzi had discovered that when it was made up, there really was no changing it.

“For the thousandth time, yes. I’ll call you first thing in the morning to check up on the case.”

“And to check in,” Kenzi frowned against her better judgment, “stay safe, Chiquita. Call me up if you change your mind and want to do that sleepover after all.”

Maia straightened and smiled in a way she hoped looked heartening, and pushed the door shut before turning resolutely and walking to the apartment building’s entrance. She gathered her rough leather jacket close around her and hunched her shoulders. It was so strangely cold for this late in the spring. Her keys jingled soothingly in her pocket, biting into her fingers as they closed around the cold, hard metal.

She turned once after she’d crossed the threshold. True to her word, Kenzi had made the taxi wait for her to go in. With a small wave, Maia turned back and heard the car pull away behind her. She sighed deeply. This wasn’t the first night she’d spent wondering where Seth was, and worrying if she’d make it home safe, but it was the first she’d known without a doubt that Seth had been taken against her will.

The reception area was empty, a table lamp shone over the lonely desk. Plush velvet couches waited patiently for the next day’s traffic of visitors, and her footsteps echoed over the cool marble floor as she strode to the elevator. It would be some hours before the next building attendant clocked in for work, and longer still before the lobby filled with waiting limo-drivers and milling, impatient tenants, going to and from appointments and living their busy, important lives. Her heart beat heavily in her chest as she stepped into the elevator, and she felt the familiar drop of her stomach as it ascended, slowly, to the penthouse floor. Her chucks sank deep into the rug that welcomed her home. She chewed on her bottom lip till it bled as she turned her key in the lock and breathed deeply as she stepped into the apartment, closed the door behind her, and leaned against it as she sank to her knees. With her head in her hands, she whispered a silent prayer for Seth. Then she rose, and her shoulders squared with desolate determination. She walked through every room, flipping the lights on as she went, as though they would call Seth home, like a lighthouse guiding lost ships in the dark.

Maia stopped at the door to the room she shared with Seth. Her eyes fluttered shut against the overwhelming sense of loneliness that washed through her. Even in the darkness, she could see the bed, made and ready, and the table beside it, with Seth’s perfumes and moisturizers and jewelry waiting patiently for Seth to come home and use them. A shawl draped over the chair that sat in the room’s corner, Maia knew it was a deep brown, the color of milk chocolate, though it looked black in the shadows of the unlit bedroom. It brought out Seth’s eyes when she wore it.

Maia took a deep breath and swallowed down the anxiety that threatened to overtake her. With shaking fingers, she flipped the light switch, instantly bathing the room in bright, welcoming light. Seth didn’t wait for her here, with an apologetic smile and an easy explanation.

Slowly, Maia undressed herself for a hot shower and what she knew would be the longest night of her life.

 

 

* * *

 

 

If nothing else, the Redcaps seemed to have a powerful sense of loyalty to each other. Dolph mused on this as he waited patiently for the call to come in that would confirm the delivery’s arrival. The pair of underlings cowered in a corner, watching dismally and flinching whenever Dolph looked their way. The Redcap he’d flung to the wall had recovered his breath and crouched close to his friend, watching with ill-concealed resentment, anger and fear. Duncan, the swine, trembled beneath his feet, whimpering pitifully in agony whenever Dolph shifted his weight.

They had not been waiting long before a shrill ring cut the air. The Shifter reached into his pocket and pulled the old phone out. Without even glancing at the caller ID, he flipped it open and lifted it to his ear.

“The package has arrived.” A non-descript voice said into the earpiece. “Have them run that second errand for me now.”

Dolph did not respond. A dial tone flat-lined into his ear, and he flipped the phone shut once again and tucked it into his pocket. Almost gingerly, the massive Shifter lifted his foot, and with a menacing grin, gestured to Duncan that he was free to go.

Immediately, the leader of the Redcaps shuffled back, clutching the briefcase with his other hand now while he cradled his broken wrist against his chest. Pain and fury twisted his face into an ugly scowl.

“I think you’ll find an added fee in that case.” His teeth gleamed against the fluorescent lights as he stepped into the flickering glow of the streetlamp just ahead of him. “And the sudden desire to inflict pain upon someone. A human.”

The pair of Redcaps that had come to back their leader sprang forward to help Duncan, who snarled at them furiously in response.

“At the building in which you retrieved my package, you’ll find just one such specimen. Have at it, boys.” His voice reverberated into the night, carrying easily over the grunts and curses shared between the three Redcaps. They snapped an affirmative at him and turned to go, eager to be rid of the powerful, dangerous Bear. But he raised his hand to stop them. They froze in their tracks.

“Do what you will with her. But leave her alive.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kenzi stared out the window of the cab, mind wandering over the events of the day. Maia had seemed like a sweet girl, if a little antisocial and introverted. She’d quickly rebuffed Kenzi’s many attempts at conversation, her numerous offers of fresh-baked cookies and liquor, and pulled out a book before she’d even had the opportunity to offer a team game of Robot Hookers III. At least it wasn’t a trashy romance novel, the quick glimpse Kenzi had snuck before Maia’s hands had obscured the cover had revealed that it an old, worn Steven King. The girl had taste. And patience.

Kenzi had wondered for the past couple of years since she’d started living with Bo if theirs was a unique situation. Fae having pets wasn’t unheard of. Perhaps unusual, at most. But for a long time, she’d held the belief that she was the only human so willingly attached to another Fae. Maia and Seth seemed to enjoy at least a semblance of Kenzi’s relationship with Bo, however.

“Hey, lady, mind if we stop for gas? I’m runnin’ on empty here.” The cab-driver’s rough voice interrupted Kenzi’s wandering thoughts. Kenzi nodded as she straightened a little in her seat.

“No problemo, dude. I’ll be here.”

The car swerved gently to the left as the cab turned into a gas station. Lights sputtered unsteadily over the pumps, they pulled up beside the furthest one. The car rocked as the heavy, balding driver pulled himself out of his seat with a quiet grunt and slammed the door after him. Kenzi’s thoughts began to drift again with the quiet knock of the gas valve opening and the soft whirr of gasoline passing through the pump into the tank.

Kenzi thought back uneasily over Maia’s story, something about it was odd, but she couldn’t quite place her finger on it. She was still wholly uncomfortable with the idea of Maia being home alone, and that discomfort twisted and roiled in her gut. The overpowering smell of petrol stole at her senses. It wasn’t that Kenzi didn’t trust Maia, or disbelieved any part of her account of Seth’s kidnap. But there was something about the way Seth was kidnapped that niggled at the back of Kenzi’s sharp intellect.

The door bumped shut and the engine turned over with a throaty purr. Slowly, the car pulled away from the station, and yellow streetlights flashed in a silent, rapid, calming rhythm into the back seat. A melody strained against the muffled whizz of cars passing them on the quiet street and over the hum of the old taxi’s engine, Kenzi thought distractedly that it might be an old 50’s Big Band song as she frowned out the window at the decrepit buildings and streets that marched past steadily. What was it about Maia’s story that wiggled its proverbial eyebrows so suggestively at her? Like a friend telling a riddle to which the answer was so obvious, if you only thought around the right corner?

The streets and buildings flew by. Still, Kenzi fingered the roll of singles Maia had shoved into her palm and scowled at the answer to the puzzle that eluded her. The buildings and cars slumped into the street, old, and weary, as the taxi wove through unfamiliar streets into the worst parts of town.

Something wasn’t right. Kenzi shook herself mentally and looked closer at the surroundings that whizzed past the window. She sat up straighter and leaned toward the driver’s seat, ready to point that out when she belatedly realized that the driver somehow looked… different.

A diminutive girl drove where once a fat, balding middle-aged man sat. Bright red hair spilled bountifully over narrow shoulders. A wicked smile bubbled at the corners of her mouth. She looked barely old enough to drink.

“What the Fae?!” Kenzi cried, clutching the seat in front of her as the car swerved sharply into a back street.

“Hello, new me!” Her voice was high pitched, and the wicked smile widened into a nasty grin that stretched from ear to ear. Glittering green eyes flicked from the empty, narrow street to Kenzi’s and back again. The car skidded to a halt.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The water ran, steaming, pounding, into Maia’s back. She lifted her face and leaned her head backward, letting the hot, clean liquid drive her heavy curls into her scalp, and ran her hands over them. Her eyes shut against the onslaught of the shower as it spilled over her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, her mouth. Droplets flew as she heaved a heavy sigh, willing her shoulders to relax, to no avail.

Still, the water beat a steady rhythm into her skin, and she scrubbed herself, quiet and wholly lost in deep, exhausted thought.

She didn’t hear the door to the apartment bang open. She didn’t hear heavy footsteps on the stairs to the bathroom. She only started when the doorknob turned, clicked, and the door fell open.

“Seth…?” She murmured, disbelievingly. Could it possibly be that the Seer had found her way home? Maia’s chest tightened against vain hope, even as her heart soared with it. The frosted glass of the shower unit slid open easily, her lips parted in preparation of a surprised, happy cry. But the person standing on the other side was not her beloved Seer. It wasn’t even a single person. Three Redcaps, grinning madly, with dried blood tracking down their unshaven faces, were what looked back at her. Maia’s mouth dropped open instead in a silent scream.

They grasped at her violently, filthy hands reaching for her hair, her arms, and her legs. They slipped against her soapy skin, but their grip was hard and uncompromising, and though she struggled, they managed to tear her from the shower and heave her into the hallway that connected the bathroom to the bedrooms. She slammed into the railing of the stairs, her spine jarring painfully with the impact. Her skin hummed with surprised pain and her head throbbed where it had connected with hard, cold iron bars. Only one stood back and laughed menacingly, cradling an arm to his chest while he let his cohorts enjoy themselves.

“Oh, go on, pet… Go on and scream. Make my day.” His rough, Cheapside accent was colored with evil intent, with sadistic joy. Maia rocked against the floor, the water on her bare skin a cold reminder of her complete nakedness. She fought to rise to her feet, but the pair that had grabbed and hauled her bore down on her now, even as she scrambled to gain her footing and run. A fist crashed into the side of her face, her neck cracked painfully as it was whipped around. A spiked boot pummeled into her hip, hard, hot hands pressed and squeezed painfully on her shoulders, her thighs and her ankle, and she struggled to recoil from the searching, merciless fingers. She kicked desperately, aimlessly against the dark, grinning shapes that clouded her dizzy vision. A knee, padded with gritty, rough plastic, dug forcefully into her belly, and she was down again. The harder she struggled against the vise grip the red-capped thugs trapped her in, the harder they pushed her into the carpet. Her spine and shoulders ground agonizingly against the iron bars of the railing behind her. The sharp edges of a knife glittered into the edges of Maia’s already swimming, reduced sight.

“Our caps have dried. Let’s soak them, gents!”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Maia didn’t know how long it had been since they’d left. They’d used and abused her, bled her until she lost consciousness. Her un-swollen eyelid fluttered open. Her head pounded, her face itched with the blood that dried on her forehead, on the side of her face, her cheeks, her lips. Her skin burned and throbbed. Everything ached. Her sight fell on the open bathroom door. Blood spattered the floor, door and walls, looking very much like a Jackson Pollock painting.

With a pained grunt, she forced herself to her feet and wobbled. Her hands smeared the walls a hot, violent red as she leaned heavily against them, taking small faltering steps to the sink, where she’d left her phone. Her stomach heaved at the sight of her own blood flooding the sink. It pooled there, burgundy and still frothing at the edges. It can’t have been long, then, since they’d left her, naked, bleeding, violated, on the hallway floor. Reflexively, her fingers searched the long, deep wound on the inside of her thigh, where they’d cut her, held her over the stoppered sink, and howled gleefully as the blood dripped down her legs. A wave of dizziness threatened to overtake her, and she clutched weakly at the sink’s edge to keep her balance. She focused on the pain that drove knives into her skull, and it kept her awake, at least for the time being.

Her phone was caked with blood. It was still sticky with it, and she fumbled with numbing fingers, fought the bile that rose in her throat, typed in the passcode that would unlock the device. The screen blushed red and brown through what was supposed to still be pumping through her veins. She fumbled some more as she sank to the floor, and it rang, once, twice, three times before a familiar voice answered, panting, on the line.

“Hello?”

“Bo.” Maia was appalled at the harsh, whispering crack that masqueraded as her voice. “Bo.” She tried again, and swallowed around the dry heave that corked her throat.

“Maia?” Bo’s voice immediately went on the alert. Maia could hear a shuffling whisper on the other end, like sheets.

“Help me.” Maia croaked.

“Where are you?” The loud sharpness made Maia cringe. She was suddenly aware that her ears were ringing, as though they’d been boxed, or had suffered the sound blast of an explosion. Vertigo pushed her again, and Maia was vaguely aware that in moments, she was going to lose consciousness once more.

“Seth’s apartment.” She managed in a whisper. Then the phone clattered to the floor. She lost the fight to stay awake, and slipped into a blissful coma.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bo was dressed in record time. She’d tossed her phone onto the bed and briefed Lauren on the situation as she pulled her clothes on and yelled for Vex to get ready. The bewildered doctor threw on her own clothes, her disappointment at being interrupted in the middle of another ‘heal’ session with her lover completely forgotten.

The couple strode out of Lauren’s bedroom and clattered down the stairs to find Vex, ready and confused, though still a little groggy from the long nap he’d taken, and waiting for them on the landing.

“Do you know where Seth lives?” Bo demanded without preamble.

“Yeah. Posh area, twenty minute drive from here.” He responded, moving to the side to allow the women to fly past him.

“We’ll make it ten. I’ll fill you in on the way. Let’s go!” The Succubus barked, allowing for pause only to let Lauren gather her med kit and a couple supplies.

 

They arrived at the upscale building with minutes to spare and screamed to a stop right outside the door that had seemed so safe to Maia mere hours ago. The only lights on at this late hour were on the penthouse floor, and they were all lit, like a cry for help. Bo slammed the presumably locked double doors. They sailed open, a gaping wound where the lock had been before Duncan and his boys had paid their visit.

Maia struggled to regain consciousness once again as the muffled sound of female voices pushed against the velvety blackness that encased her. Once again, the vain hope that Seth had come home pulsed like an electric shock through her; Seth’s pale, worried face hovered beneath heavy eyelids even as she recognized it as only a mirage. She felt pain thudding through her again, and panic flared for an instant before she realized that the new arrivals were Bo, Vex, and a woman she’d never met. The Succubus and her blond companion knelt beside her, concern clear on their faces. Maia fought to smile reassuringly at them. It reopened the cut on her lip, and the smile she’d tried so hard to give turned into an ugly, bloody grimace.

“Who did this?” Bo demanded. Her voice seemed so far away…

Black fluttered at the edges of Maia’s fuzzy vision, and she squeezed her good eye shut to fight it off.

“I need space, Bo.” She heard, and assumed it was the blond who spoke. She hoped she was a doctor of some kind, because pain seared through her whole body and nausea came in crashing waves. Maia forced her eye open again. Absurdly, she was mortified by her own nudity, and again by the pathetic crack of her voice grasping for words.

“Hush. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” The blonde’s voice was soothing, and despite herself, Maia found herself slipping into the comforting folds of darkness all over again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After a small, necessary amount of triage, Lauren wrapped the frail, scrawny girl up in blankets and, with Bo and Vex’s help, carried her out to the car and brought her back to her own home. The treatment the girl needed was too extensive to be conducted at the Dark Seer’s apartment, she would need the equipment that had been too unwieldy to carry with them.

The human doctor pored over Maia’s many injuries. She’d needed stitches across one eyebrow and along the long, deep wound on the inside of her thigh, where the Redcaps had bled her, but most of her wounds were shallow and ragged. She was bruised and battered over almost every inch of her body, her shoulders were badly wrenched, and she’d suffered a couple cracked ribs. Her left arm had been broken close to the elbow, and the wrist had been crushed. She’d suffered a concussion, and Lauren had been waking her every fifteen minutes to check her pupil dilation and to check her responsiveness.

Lauren stepped back and massaged her temples, looking quickly over the IV she had hooked up to Maia’s arm. She’d needed a blood-bag, glad that she’d kept a small supply of O- at her apartment for emergencies, antibiotics, as well as a good dose of morphine and sedatives to keep the pain at bay while she rested. After the horrific beating the poor girl had suffered in the past few hours, she would need all the rest and care she could get.

Still, it had been nearly fifteen minutes since Lauren had last woken her. Gently, she rubbed her hand over Maia’s unbroken arm, careful not to irritate the bruising there.

“Maia. Wake up.” She murmured softly, bending close to brush the pad of her thumb over Maia’s cheek. Maia stirred, a low, agonized moan falling from her torn mouth. Her unswollen eye fluttered open and focused slowly on the woman that hovered anxiously above her.

“Hey.” Lauren smiled soothingly down at her, fumbling with the flashlight to check that both her pupils were the same size and reacted properly to the light flashing painfully into them. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, you know. Million bucks. Minus about two or three million.” Maia’s voice was dry and cracked, and so soft, Lauren had to strain to hear it properly. But the joke brought a thin smile to her lips, and she was a little heartened to see Maia struggle to return it.

“Can you tell me your name?” The flashlight returned to her pocket, and Lauren gently pinched and rolled a patch of unbruised skin from Maia’s neck between her fingers.

“Maia.” She whispered in response. Her eyelid fluttered shut again, and she let out a tiny burst of air in response to the mild pain the pinch provoked. “I felt that.”

“Good,” Lauren’s tentative smile widened a fraction, “that’s good. You seem to be recovering from your concussion. Are you dizzy?”

“No.” It was more a sigh than an answer, but Maia opened her eye again with a little difficulty to prove how well she could focus her sight. “But I’m so tired…”

They had been doing this for a little more than two hours. Reflexively, Lauren checked the solitary clock that hung on the pristine white wall of the make-shift hospital room. Considering how well Maia had been responding to her in the past hour, it ought to be safe to let her sleep a little longer before waking her again.

“Okay. I’ll let you sleep a little longer this time.” Lauren cast a cursory glance over the equipment arrayed around Maia’s hospital bed, checking that everything was in its place and that all the settings on the IV and heart monitor were correct. Maia’s eyes were already shut and her chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm by the time she turned back to her patient. Lauren’s lips pursed together worriedly, and she brushed a hand delicately over the clean white cast that covered Maia’s arm from her elbow to her knuckles. Carefully, she rearranged the ice pack that draped over the crown of Maia’s head.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Lauren turned and tiptoed out of the extra bedroom she’d converted into a hospital space. Bo was sprawled across the couch, Vex was nowhere to be seen. Lauren vaguely remembered his muttered farewell: he was staying at the ‘crack shack’ for what was left of the night. The door snicked shut quietly behind her. Still, the soft sound was enough to startle Bo, and bring her attention around to where Lauren stood.

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s sleeping.” Lauren answered, exhaustion evident in her voice. She dropped onto the couch beside Bo and leaned in to settle her head against the Succubus’ shoulder. “God, the things they did to her, Bo…”

The Succubus wrapped an arm around her lover and brushed her long, wavy tresses soothingly. She pressed a kiss to Lauren’s temple, her eyebrows knit in anger.

“She said there were three of them.” Lauren continued, her voice weary, and unsteady. “She’s such a tough guy. Every time I woke her to check on her concussion, she cracked a joke. She kept saying if her doctor was smiling, she knew she was going to be just fine.” Lauren’s voice fractured, “they cracked her ribs, broke her arm and shattered her wrist, and then bled her almost dry over the sink. And the whole time I was treating her, she just kept trying to make me laugh.”

“Sounds like she’s got a little crush.” Bo grinned.

“Bo.” Lauren admonished. She pulled away to glare reprovingly at her girlfriend, but the slightly upturned corners of her mouth gave her away. “Still… After all that blood loss, through the concussion, and the incredible amount of pain she must have been in… That she had the strength to get to the phone and call you…” Lauren let her words trail off, and closed her eyes.

“Let’s just hope there’s more where that strength came from, for her sake.” Bo finished for her, firmly. Lauren leaned back in, taking courage and warmth from the love they shared. “I’m going to find Seth.” Bo promised to no one in particular. “Then I’m going to find Duncan and his boys. And they’re not going to like it when I do.” Determination steeled her mahogany eyes, and she pressed another kiss to Lauren’s hair. The doctor had finally fallen into a fitful, restless sleep.

 

 

* * *

  

 

Evony shuffled the papers on her desk impatiently, listening with half an ear while her assistant listed her appointments and briefed her on the various tasks of the day. It was still early, a steaming cup of coffee sat untouched on the table and the morning sun shone charmingly into the huge window that walled her office.

“Is there anything you’d like me to take care of before your first appointment?” Anne, another Siñata and a brunette to rival the beauty and intelligence of Evony’s last assistant, held her stylus at the ready over her tablet, glasses pushed up on her nose, a focused expression on her ivory features, and waited patiently for instructions.

“No, dear. But can you explain to me why Eric is standing at my door, when I know we didn’t schedule an appointment for him?” Evony’s tone was blasé, and she looked past Anne at the heavy, muscled Fae that stood self-consciously at her threshold. Anne turned to look, and he stepped forward to stand beside the Siñata at Evony’s wave.

“Go.” The Morrigan commanded calmly, and Anne left immediately, shutting the door quietly behind her.

“Well?” Evony shuffled through her papers again, bored and impatient with the thug that had already failed her time and again. “This better be good.”

“Ma’am. I thought you might like to know,” he started, deep voice tentative, “Seth has gone missing.” He hung his head, knowing it was not his place to make eye-contact with the Morrigan.

This was one of the singular reasons Evony hadn’t already had him disposed of. He was useful in bringing her information from time to time, and he clearly knew his place. She looked over his black leather vest, his heavily tattooed shoulders and his torn black denim pants. She certainly didn’t keep him around for his errant sense of style.

“And where did you get this information, Eric?”

“Steve.” He corrected quietly. “I went to her apartment to give her the warning you asked me to deliver this morning. It was tossed, and there was blood on the walls. I visited some of your well-placed spies, who claimed they’d seen her human pet with Bo.”

Evony sat in silence for a moment, thinking over what the strangely soft-spoken brute had to tell her. The single fact that the human had been to see the unaligned Succubus was not enough on its own to prove that Seth had gone missing or been kidnapped. But this, coupled with a ransacked and bloodied apartment did indicate strongly some very untoward incident.

That the human had gone to Bo rather than the Morrigan annoyed and angered her. Even if she’d sent Eric to Seth’s apartment that day to ‘convince’ her to stop lending her skills to the Light. That someone else had beaten her to Seth’s ‘punishment’ sent a stab of rage through her slim, sensual body.

She trusted what Eric had to say without a doubt, however. She believed that he was both too stupid and too cowardly to ever lie to or betray her.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Eric.” She purred.

“I’m Steve.” He corrected again, exasperated almost, but not quite, to the point of snappishness. Evony waved him off and he turned to leave her office, dismissed.

“Anne, darling.” Evony called to the open door, not even bothered to leave her plush office chair. The flawless brunette stepped through the portal and stood a respectful distance from the Morrigan’s desk. “I need you to call Detective Tamsin. Have her come in right away. And cancel all my appointments until noon.” She instructed imperiously. Anne scrawled furiously onto her tablet.

“Right away, Ma’am.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

Tamsin was standing outside the Morrigan’s office within an hour of receiving her summons. She tapped her foot impatiently, waiting to be admitted, to get this impromptu meeting over and done with. An almost overwhelming craving for caffeine frayed at her nerves. The shrewd blond wondered for a moment what this was about, if the Morrigan were getting impatient again with her investigation into Bo’s attack on the Fae that lay in a coma, or if it were something else entirely. Nothing new had popped up on the first front. Bo denied her involvement consistently, and the smitten Dyson backed her unquestioningly. It filled her with scorn whenever she thought of how devoted Dyson was to the Succubus. It was pathetic. Weak. She would harden him to the bitch yet, bring the detective back out in him.

“She’s ready to see you, Detective.” Anne stepped out of the Morrigan’s office, not meeting Tamsin’s eyes as she moved aside to allow the Valkyrie admittance. Silently, Tamsin strode into the office and stopped abruptly just in front of Evony’s desk. The Morrigan sat in her chair, legs crossed primly and her back straight as a board. She wore a cocky smile on her face and a tight, bright red dress that highlighted her perfect physique. A coffee steamed tantalizingly on the desk, the warm, bitter fragrance teasing Tamsin’s yearning for a just taste of the hot, soothing drink.

“I have a new assignment for you.” Evony announced without greeting. Tamsin stood at a casual attention. “Not to imply you aren’t to continue your investigations on our favorite Succubus.” She continued, looking Tamsin squarely in the eye. The Morrigan’s hands flattened on the glass surface of her desk. Her hands and nails were immaculate.

“What do you need?” The detective clasped her hands behind her back and stared back at her boss defiantly.

“One of my Seers has gone missing. The information I’ve been given indicates she was kidnapped. I want you to look into it for me.” Evony pushed a manila folder to the opposite edge of the table, which Tamsin reached to pick up. It was immediately opened, and the Valkyrie looked over its contents quickly.

“I thought Seth was on the outs with you?” The question was more of a statement, and the detective continued to busily flip through the papers in the file. Pictures of the crime scene certainly indicated foul play, but that seemed to be all the information presented on the crime scene itself.

“Outs or not, she’s _my_ Seer to punish or protect, as I see fit.” Evony leaned forward, catching Tamsin’s attention once again. “The scene is untouched and taped off. It’s waiting for you. Find her, and bring her to me. And find out who’s responsible.” Evony enunciated every word clearly. Her hair fell in a cascade of loose curls around her face. The Morrigan tilted her head down and stared through heavy lashes at the Valkyrie that stood before her, absorbed in the folder she’d just handed her. Carelessly, she flapped her hand at Tamsin, indicating she was free to go. Understanding the unspoken dismissal, Tamsin flipped the file shut and turned to leave.

“And Tamsin, sweetie,” Evony called, “why don’t we leave the troublesome Wolf out of this one, hmmm?” A crocodile smile spread slyly across the Leanan Sidhe’s lips as she watched Tamsin walk out. The blond only waved a hand in recalcitrant affirmation and marched out of the office.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The tough-as-nails detective tossed her empty coffee cup into the trash just outside Seth’s apartment. Black and yellow police tape crisscrossed over the door that opened into the residence. Mud tracked in brown streaks down the polished wooden floors and trailed off on the stairs. Mid-morning sunlight crept through the enormous windows, and a light breeze, just a degree or two warmer than yesterday’s, drifted through and billowed the light linen drapery lazily.

Abstract paintings decorated the creamy walls. The solitary couch and love-seat, accompanied by a throw-rug and glass coffee table lent the living room a wide-open feel. The kitchen, all steel and clean white porcelain and plastic, felt similarly modern and airy. The Fae that had lived here had class, money, and the good sense not to attempt to show it off gaudily.

The clean white décor upstairs, however, was fouled. The dirt and dried mud and blood that had tracked through the entrance scuffed the waxed hardwood stairs, and blood caked along the stainless steel railing. The deep, rich white carpeting at the top of the steps was stained brown and black. Blood spattered and streaked the walls and floor, darkest in a spot opposite the bathroom door. Tamsin peered at each end of the hall, at the master bedroom that opened up on her right and the pair of smaller bedrooms clustered, doors almost shut, on her left. The trail of blood and mud seemed concentrated over the spot opposite the bathroom, where blood had turned the plush white carpet almost black, and thinned off on either side of it, constricting the crime scene to that hallway.

Tamsin found Phillip, the Dark’s personal coroner and forensic scientist, taking samples from the deep white rug and walls. He turned to face her at the sound of her heeled shoes clicking against the waxed oak stairs.

“Gruesome.” She commented in way of greeting. “Fae kill?”

Phillip, a slightly rotund Fae with a greater fascination for dead bodies than living ones, shook his balding head and shrugged his shoulders.

“The blood is certainly not Fae.” His voice was scratchy and low, as if out of practice. Tamsin supposed that it probably was. She doubted he ever went out to see the natural light of day, or night, unless ordered to. Phillip knelt on the carpet on his hands and knees and lowered his face to the ground. He inhaled deeply, thin lips parted and his pointed tongue scraping over his teeth as if he were tasting the scent.

“Human secretions. Also mud, month-old chewing gum, and Fae sweat.”

A look of utter disgust crossed Tamsin’s face for an instant. Phillip rose suddenly and stepped into the bathroom, indicating for Tamsin to follow. Even she could smell the metallic tang of blood in here. A pool of it congealed in the sink, permanently staining the eggshell white porcelain a nasty, rusty shade of red.

“I didn’t need the fibers I found in there to tell me it was Redcaps.”

“Redcaps and a human.” Tamsin murmured. The file had mentioned in passing that Seth had kept a human pet for some time. It mentioned something else too, which she’d wanted to pursue first. But crime scenes weren’t forever, and this one was already growing stale.

“Any indications of what happened to the Seer?” Tamsin had to look down at the short, squat coroner. He only shrugged again. It took him a moment, as well as an aggressively raised eyebrow, for him to realize that a verbal response was required.

“Her scent is faint. She hasn’t been here in the last twenty-four hours. Even her room is untouched.” He elaborated, visibly annoyed by having to interact with someone clearly not as intelligent as himself.

“How do you know which room is which?” Skepticism sharpened the Valkyrie’s tone. Phillip shrugged.

“I didn’t have to. The other two rooms smell like dust. Only the master bedroom smells at all like Fae or human. Both scents are faint enough to indicate the room hasn’t been used in the past twenty-four hours, the bed is made, and nothing is out of place. We know the human was here last night. I know the Seer wasn’t.”

Tamsin wondered if Phillip had ever strung so many words together at once. He looked drained and out of breath from his long explanation, and, decidedly ignoring her now, went back about the business of organizing his samples and getting ready to leave. Tamsin had taken her time getting her cup of coffee, so the photographers had come and gone, leaving only a pair of uniformed guards standing sentry on either side of the apartment door.

“Get the Unis to seal up when you’re done. And call me immediately with any developments. Is there anything else?” Tamsin half-turned, just about ready to leave. She’d looked closely over everything while Phillip spoke, and now she was ready to find out if the human involved had lived or died.

Phillip raised a hand, a small evidence bag clasped tightly between his gloved fingers. A long, blond hair glimmered in the bathroom’s bright lights between them.

“Human. Seth’s pet wasn’t a blond, by any chance, was she?”

Tamsin gave a smug grin. Her hunch had just been confirmed.

“Tell me, Phillip. Do you know what a dead Succubus smells like?”

Phillip frowned at Tamsin, utterly puzzled. The Valkyrie snickered as she turned away and left the scene. Let him figure it out. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tamsin rarely had a reason to visit the Light doctor’s apartment before, and those times had all been recent: only since she’d become part of a little peace project between the Dark and the Light. Ever since the acting Ash had decided to move his Seat closer to the Dal and out of the Ash’s compound, and ever since the last Ash’s death, Lauren had preferred to do most of her work and research in her own home.

This, and the doctor’s recently developed relationship with Bo, was the reason the Valkyrie stood in front of Lauren’s door now, fist raised and ready to knock once more.

“Come on, Lauren. I know you’re in there. How much you wanna bet Succubitch is in there too, huh?”

The door swung open finally, and Tamsin let her hand drop to her side. Her head tilted and she gave a sarcastic smile that didn’t even try to reach her eyes. “Pay up.”

“What do you want, Tamsin?” Bo stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, letting her body language tell the Valkyrie just how unwelcome she was here.

“Dark Fae business, honey. That little human the Doc’s got hiding back there is now part of my investigation. Dead, or alive.” Tamsin shoved past Bo, unconcerned by the dark looks the Succubus gave her. The blond stopped in the middle of the living room and turned a bit to look around. In style, it was very similar to Seth’s apartment. Airy, wide open, brightly lit. The doctor was nowhere in sight. But she could hear the steady hum of machinery in the next room. She gestured with her thumb at the door that stood only slightly ajar.

“They in there?” Without waiting for an answer, Tamsin spun on her heel and swaggered to the indicated door. Bo leapt after her, but by the time she’d managed to grab Tamsin’s arm, the detective had already unceremoniously shoved the door open and stood, staring, at the blue and green bundle lying in the gurney.

Lauren looked up at the door sharply. She held a paper cup with a straw in her hands, it hovered for a moment just above the patient’s eye level, as if she’d been caught just about to offer the beaten thing a drink. A flashlight hung on the edge of her lab coat pocket. Otherwise, Lauren looked like she’d just woken from restless sleep, her hair was mussed, her clothes slightly wrinkled, and her feet bare.

The girl lying bruised and beaten on the hospital bed reached up to grasp the paper cup in her own hands, seemingly unconcerned by Tamsin’s sudden entrance. She slurped the water, wincing around the splits in her lip. Lauren blew out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. With a worried glance at her patient, she straightened and strode toward Tamsin and Bo. If looks could kill, Tamsin would have been nothing more than smoldering ashes on the spotless stone floor.

The detective allowed herself to be jostled out of the makeshift hospital room, the door clicked shut quietly behind them. Lauren, agitated and furious, half-dragged the detective and Bo to the kitchen. Tamsin grinned, amused by Lauren’s behavior and pleased that she’d found so easily the girl she’d been hunting for. That she was alive was just an added bonus.

Bo and Lauren glared silently at Tamsin, who stared right back, totally indifferent to their mood. Then, with a nonchalant shrug and an exasperated sigh, Tamsin began to explain.

“The Morrigan found out about her missing Seer. She put me on the case. That little bruise in there is vital to my investigation. So, if you’d kindly make with my witness-“

Lauren shook her head sharply. But it was Bo that responded first.

“She hired _me_ to find Seth. And she’s under my protection until we do.”

“Oh yes, I can see how well you’ve been protecting her.” Sharp sarcasm colored Tamsin’s words. “You can’t claim a claimed human. Or are we stealing now, as well as killing?” She turned on the Succubus, the playfulness of her tone underlined with poison. “Don’t interfere with my investigation, bitch.” The blond snarled.

“Both of you, shut the hell up.” A tired, broken voice cracked from behind Tamsin. Maia stood, leaning wearily against the doorjamb. The hospital gown she wore hung limply from her bony shoulders, the sling that carried her cast was twisted around her neck and crooked to an odd angle; she scowled at the bickering women with her good eye, the other bulging painfully, uselessly, against her glasses and her face drawn and pale against the effort it took for the severely beaten girl to stand and scold.

Lauren went to her immediately, arms outstretched to support her. Maia only pushed her away, choosing instead to sway on her own aching bare feet and lean against the door frame. She needed to make her point: she was not some weak, helpless human, to be handled and discarded.

“I don’t know who you are, and honestly, right now, I don’t give a shit.” Neither Lauren nor Bo had ever expected such bitterness from the skinny, battered human. And judging by the guardedly shocked expression on Tamsin’s face, neither did the Valkyrie.

Maia waved her phone in the air.

“She sent me a message. You can trace that, right? Find out where she is?”

Tamsin strode forward and snatched the phone from Maia’s tenuous grip, giving the defiant human an analytical look as she did so.

[-Don’t look for me.-] glowed across the screen. The Valkyrie wrinkled her nose at the dried blood that had begun to flake off the phone in her hands.

A cold, vise-like clutch wrapped around Tamsin’s wrist, bringing her attention back to the battered, scrappy girl. Tight, chocolate curls clung to her forehead, beads of perspiration stood out against her ashen skin.

“I don’t care if it’s you or Bo or Jesus that finds Seth. I just want her back.” She hissed. Tamsin stared directly into dark brown eyes that seethed with anger. With their faces barely inches apart, she could feel Maia’s hot, stale breath on her cheek. “And if you take her to the Morrigan and she winds up dead, so help me God, I will make what the Redcaps did to me look like child’s play.”

Under any other circumstances, Tamsin would have burst into laughter at the damaged, underweight human issuing useless threats. Instead, she took a small step back and gave Maia an evaluating stare. She felt a begrudging respect manifest for such determined, uncompromising, unflinching strength in such a powerless creature.

With a nod as solemn as her expression, Tamsin pocketed the iPhone.

Maia took a long, shuddering breath, finally allowing Lauren’s arms to circle her. She would not be led back to her hospital bed, but allowed the doctor to guide her to the couch instead. She refused to allow Lauren to bring over the IV and hook her back up, insisting she was fine and could heal well enough without the morphine. Tamsin poised herself on the edge of the coffee table, Bo glared distrustfully at the Dark Fae detective from behind the couch.

“This doesn’t make us partners.” The Succubus clarified. Tamsin ignored her.

“Start from the beginning. Don’t leave anything out.” The detective focused her attention on Maia. “The quicker you tell me everything, the sooner I can get this message traced. You hear me?”

Maia only nodded in confirmation and told her story for the second time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Glass and plastic flew across the hard stone floor. What remained of a cell phone crunched under the sleek heel of his shiny black loafer. A cruel smile spread across features that may have been handsome but for the madness lurking behind every expression, every look.

“Well done, Seer.” He praised, voice smooth and pleasant. His words lilted with the vaguest implication of an Irish accent. With a graceful sideways kick, he thrust the dysfunctional pile of glass and wiring to the corner of the cell and leaned forward, bending to one knee to be closer to eye level with his prisoner. “Now we just have to wait.” He brushed a calloused finger against the Seer’s cheek tenderly, then rose and swept the dust off his well-tailored pants.

“She won’t come alone.” The Seer growled, her words slightly muffled. “She’ll bring back-up. She’s not stupid.”

“I should hope not.” The tall, dark, striking Fae preened himself, pulling imaginary wrinkles from his suit and straightening his pristine black tie. “Otherwise we’ve broken a perfectly good phone for absolutely no reason. I want this to seem as real as possible.”

“Torturing me wasn’t real enough for you?” She spat.

“Oh no, darling. You seem to misunderstand. It doesn’t need to be real for me. Though I have missed the smell of pestilence and burning flesh…” He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, appreciating those smells even now.

“Then who does it need to be ‘real’ for?!” Seth cried, her voice cracking with pain and exhaustion. Bloody tears tracked down her cheeks, she could taste the salty, bitter mix in her broken, parched mouth.

“Ah. I have read enough novels and seen enough films to be quite familiar with this cliché.” He grinned down out her, perfect teeth gleaming sinisterly from behind perfect, masculine lips. A dimple showed in his right cheek and dark eyes glittered with cold mirth. “This is the part where the villain, myself in this scenario, announces his intentions. That never does end well for him, does it?”

“What are you?” The harsh whisper escaped her, despite herself. She shivered in her coarse rags, what was not long ago a fashionable skirt-suit, in spite of the fever that burned through her. He laughed deprecatingly.

“Hasn’t your Sight enlightened you yet, my dear? My, my. Such a useless gift.” He flexed a hand and raised it to his face, palm out, inspecting his nails. “How does that old chestnut crack…? I’m your biggest nightmare?” He laughed again, a full-throated, bellowing, hateful sound.  Seth’s eyes blanched with her Sight, as if brought on by his taunts. Her face, already pale, went pallid at the vision that unfolded within her mind’s eye.

The Fomor grinned maliciously, then turned and left. The barred door echoed as it slammed shut behind him. Seth could hear his shoes snap a steady beat against the floor, fading as he walked further and further away. The sores along her neck, back, arms and chest broke, blood and pus seeping from the diseased wounds and trailing dirt and stench across her skin. Fever spiked through her again. The dying woman collapsed further into the dank darkness of her cell, shadows guarding features marred by disease and decay.

 


	6. Chapter 6

The sounds of busy officers and detectives going about their business all but drowned out the chugging groan of the printer as it spat out the last known whereabouts of the cell phone signal and its directions. Tamsin snatched the still warm paper from the printer’s bed and folded it, checking around her to see that the coast was still clear. No Dyson.

She grabbed her coat and spun it around her shoulders. It wasn’t that she was afraid to tell Dyson that this was her case, and hers alone. She had no problems with telling the lovelorn Wolf to back off. But he would get inquisitive and nosy. It could waste precious time. The tech guys had just managed to get a read on the signal moments before it had died, and this gave the case a refreshed sense of urgency.

“There’s my new partner,” Dyson’s gruff, cheerful voice brought a sigh of frustration to Tamsin’s lips, “where have you been all day?” The Shifter sauntered in through the precinct’s emergency side exit. He held a coffee cup in one hand, with the other tucked into the front pocket of his faded blue jeans, its thumb hooked through the belt loop. He had a cocky smile on his lips and his pale blue eyes shone with good humor. “I thought you went AWOL on me.”

“Is that your way of saying I forgot to take you on your walkies today?” Tamsin smirked back at him. She flipped her hair over the collar of her jacket and cocked her hips to the side in annoyance when Dyson leaned against her desk. He stood right between her and the car keys she’d dumped there on her way in.

“What-cha got there?” He nodded at the file in her hand, into which she unceremoniously stuffed her freshly printed directions.

“Down, boy. This case is mine.” She had to lean around him to grab her keys and took the opportunity to husk into his ear, “Dark Fae business,” she leaned back, her pale green eyes glimmered teasingly under the artificial lights of the police station. “You wouldn’t be interested.” She swatted him playfully across the shoulder before turning her back on him, “enjoy your day, buddy.” The Valkyrie swaggered out of the precinct, sparing a covert glance through her long blond hair at her partner. He leaned against her desk as he watched her leave, sipping his coffee thoughtfully, and, Tamsin hoped, avoiding the mountain of paperwork waiting patiently for him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Lauren should have come with us,” Maia grumbled as she eased her legs out of the bright yellow Camaro Bo drove. She didn’t wait for the Succubus to help her out of the car. “It’s not safe for her to be alone.”

“They’re targeting you and yours, remember? Not me or mine. Besides, the Ash called her in. She’ll be safe with him.” Bo rolled her eyes in exasperation and jogged over to Maia’s door, bending to help the human out. Maia swatted her hand away and groaned against bruised, resisting muscles.

It took her a moment, but she finally managed to unfold herself and step away from the vehicle. Bo took the opportunity to shut the door for her.

“I just don’t want to be responsible for anyone else going through what I did,” Maia mumbled.

Lauren had warned Bo the night before that Maia’s moods might swing wildly and unpredictably over the next few days. Every time Lauren or Bo had woken her the night before to check on her, she’d responded with jokes, and seemed almost hell-bent on lightening the dark anxiety that hovered over them like a bad dream. She’d woken the next morning in much the same mood, but grew more and more irritable as they day had gone by, and leaving Lauren alone at her home had left Maia downright grumpy.

Bo tried not to take it to heart. Maia and Lauren had almost become friends, despite Maia’s Dark affiliations and Lauren’s servitude and loyalty to the Light; and Maia’s anxiety for her, paired with what Lauren had told her was called Post-Concussion Syndrome had flipped her pleasant demeanor into a nasty attitude within a couple of short hours.

Kenzi pulled the door open for them just as they reached the threshold, and they brushed past wordlessly. Bo only smiled at her best friend in greeting. Vex was sitting on the couch, sucking noisily on a Freezee and watching The Gates on their large, flat-screen TV. He jerked his head at them in greeting.

“Dude, did a piano fall on you or something?” Kenzi looked Maia up and down and flinched in shock at the mirthless, cackling laugh Maia gave in reply.

“I think that might have hurt less,” Vex commented, not turning away from the ‘succubus’ portrayed on the screen, sucking her own boyfriend nearly dry.

Bo frowned as she leaned back against the island in the kitchenette, watching while Maia eased across the room around the shabby furniture. Kenzi hid a grin that seemed almost cruel behind a cough. Bo didn’t notice, their attention was focused on Maia as she dropped with a grunt into the couch, as far away from Vex as possible. She cradled her casted arm in her lap and her head in her free hand, massaging her temples and squeezing her eyes shut against the light and sound that suddenly seemed far more intense than they ought to be.

“Where’s the Doc?” Vex seemed far more invested in his show than in the answer to his question. Still, it brought the Succubus back to the here and now.

“At her apartment, probably leaving to meet with Hale soon,” Bo answered, too distracted by her own troubles to notice his lack of real concern. She busied herself with making tea instead, feeling totally restless with Tamsin tracing the text message Maia had received from Seth earlier that day. There was nothing for her to do but wait until the Valkyrie called with the results. It was making her antsy, and if people didn’t stop asking her about Lauren’s whereabouts soon, she’d start getting nervous herself about her girlfriend’s safety.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The expansive O’Meara estate was well out of the city limits. It took Tamsin just over an hour to roll up to the elaborately designed iron gate. The sky in the city had been overcast when she’d first set out, but here it was flawlessly blue. The early afternoon sun shone brilliantly through the trees that lined the road from the highway exit to the driveway, leaving dappled patches of light and shadow cascading carelessly over the road and into the windshield of her truck. The kingly ash and black walnut trees, decorated by the occasional stab of bright crimson from a red maple, that lined the road crowned the beautiful grounds that made up the O’Meara property. Tamsin’s eyes wandered over the canopy and lingered over the grassy knoll that surrounded the Victorian mansion, sprawled luxuriously in its center.

A guard booth stood sentry on the side of the road just outside the gate. Its polished steel surface glinted painfully in the cheerful sunlight. It was free of any adornment but for the grill at eye level, at once both its receiver and speaker. Tamsin rolled down her window as she pulled up beside it. It was warmer out here than in the city. A sweet breeze brushed playful fingers through Tamsin’s hair as she stuck her head out, carrying with it the fragrant woodsy smells of bark, trees, and earth, and grass and flowers growing somewhere out of sight. It was enough to distract Tamsin for a moment, eyes fluttering in pleasure at the sensation of warm, clean sunlight sinking deep into her skin.

“O’Meara Estate. Please state your business,” the sentry booth rattled off in a monotone, yanking the detective out of her relaxed thoughts. She blinked and stuttered, shuffling to pull her badge off her belt.

“Detective Tamsin. Here on police business.” She flashed her badge at the machine, realizing belatedly that it had no lens, and no camera. Tamsin clipped it back onto her belt sheepishly, feeling quite foolish and grateful that no one had been around to see her flustered.

“Welcome,” it replied in its tinny, automated voice. The enormous gilt iron gates eased open silently, echoing the booth’s spoken welcome with an open-armed one of its own.

“Creepy…” Tamsin muttered as she tapped her foot gently to the gas and glided through. Loose gravel crunched audibly under the heavy treads of her tires. The driveway swung in a gentle arc to her left, and suddenly, the flowers the sweet-smelling breeze had hinted at came clearly into view. Velvety reds and deep blues waved cheerfully among dozens of shades of green. Specks of gold and dashes of pink and purple splashed across a canvas of flowers, and plants swayed amongst each other, interrupted only by patches of the rough tan of stone benches and land bridges. It was dazzling, entrancing. Tamsin could hardly keep her eyes off the lush garden that seemed to creep along the side of the house.

She parked just outside the mansion’s enormous porch. A pair of Corinthian columns stoically carried the second story, the base of which also served as a massive roof for the open portico. Two wicker chairs occupied it, padded with linen pillows a shade lighter than the lawn’s grass. A small round wicker table with a clear glass surface completed the set.

A gentleman dressed in a butler’s suit stood to the side closest to the outdoor furniture, carrying a silver platter with what looked like white hand towels stacked neatly on it. He waited patiently for her to shut the door of her car and stroll up the steps, then bowed gracefully.

“Detective Tamsin. Welcome to the O’Meara Estate. Your identification, please?” his posh British accent fit right in. He looked down his long, large nose at her through hooded brown eyes. Wordlessly, Tamsin pulled her badge from her belt and flashed it at him. He nodded his satisfaction and, as expressionlessly as his greeting, offered her a towel.

Tamsin frowned at the gesture, her lips puckering up slightly at the oddity, the quaintness of it. Still, she plucked a towel, and found to her surprised delight that it was warm and damp. The sweet perfume of jasmine permeated the air, and the Valkyrie’s shoulders relaxed, despite herself, at the soothing sensation of the soft, warm, scented towels.

“This way, please,” the butler offered the tray again as he spoke, and Tamsin dropped her used towel on it before he bustled off to open the door for her and lead her inside.

Tamsin’s eyes widened at the sight that greeted her. The foyer was a display of fine marble, stretched out in a wide semi-circle with a pair of hallways that extended to the left and right of the entrance. A deep, soft burgundy rug stretched from beneath her feet and led to a pair of dark wood double doors just ahead of her. Pretty maids, dressed in traditional French Maid uniforms, fluttered feather dusters at side tables upon which large clusters of deep purple amethyst and clear, glittering quartz sat, alongside a leather guestbook and calling cards, a small goblet of fresh ink and a beautiful feather quill. Vases filled with fresh flowers from the garden perched delicately on some of these surfaces, or rose elegantly from the floor. The massive windows she’d seen from outside were opened just slightly, allowing the gentle, fragrant breeze to ruffle the light linen drapes playfully. Two sets of stairs on either side of her glided in perfect arcs up and around the lobby, to join in the canopy that made the upstairs hallway. The railings were exquisitely fine in their design, iron vines wound in a pattern around the bars and the tops of the rails shone a bright burnished copper in the sunlight that streamed through the ceiling-high windows.

The butler cleared his throat. The tray he’d been holding was being carried away by one of the silent, attentive maids. Now he gestured with his pristinely white gloved hands for her to follow him, then turned sharply to the left hall and strode down it purposefully.

They passed two doors on their way to their destination, only one of which was open. A quick, inquisitive peek showed Tamsin that it led to a small guest room, but was pulled along too quickly to get a good look inside. Finally, they stopped at the threshold of what seemed to be the Master Study.

Tamsin stopped in the middle of the room and turned, drinking in the warm brown, gold and ochre tones of the chamber she’d been led to. The wallpaper was a fine tan parchment in color, lined with soft, almost transparent gold pinstripe. The brown carpeting here was as lush and deep as the red rug in the foyer, and her feet sank into it pleasantly. An enormous dark wood desk dominated most of the room. It was mostly bare, but for the rich, oiled, brown leather mat that sat squarely at its center, the bronze desk lamp at its corner, and a cup of fountain pens. Another small bottle of ink waited patiently beside it.

A desk chair, also padded with a dark soft leather, sat behind the desk, like a massive throne. A pair of small, cozy loveseats waited invitingly on either side of the front of the desk. A stuffed moose head hung over the back wall, keeping vigilant watch over the study. Rows of old, leather-bound books stood attentively on the shelves that lined the wall to Tamsin’s right, and the vague scent of sandalwood teased her senses. The lights in here were kept relatively dim, it was a room meant for relaxation and repose as much as for appointments. The window on Tamsin’s left was partly shuttered, though she could see it gave the master of the study a clear view of the driveway.

Tamsin clasped her hands behind her back, unable to shake the slight feeling of intimidation such a show had offered her. She smiled tensely at the butler, the muscles in her shoulders stiffening again. He didn’t smile back, but gave her a slight bow.

“May I offer any refreshment? A glass of chilled chardonnay, perhaps? Or coffee?”

“No,” she replied, feeling edgy and uncomfortable. Then, “thank you.”

He nodded, though if her politeness in response to his pleased him at all, it didn’t show on his still, stony features. He shut the door without turning his back. Tamsin listened for the click of the lock, and was relieved when it never came.

She was only left waiting for a few moments when the door opened again, and a tall, well-dressed gentleman stepped inside with a charming smile and a large hand offered in greeting. Gray dusted his temples, his thick, dark brown hair was slicked back without looking at all greasy. He was clean shaven, his jaw was square set, and his strong, masculine chin carried a small dimple in its middle. When he smiled, another dimple appeared in his right cheek. Familiar, cheerful brown eyes glittered warmly at Tamsin.

She accepted his handshake, noticing immediately that his clean warm hands were worn and calloused. The way he stood and walked, with his back and broad shoulders held straight and proudly, with a confident gait and a constant, subconscious alertness, told Tamsin instantly that he was a warrior. Like her.

But something about him made her uneasy.

“Detective Tamsin. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” his voice was deep and rough, commanding, but not at all unpleasant, “my name is Mr. Jack O’Meara. But you can call me Jack.” He gave her a companionable grin, brown eyes twinkling as though they were in on a little secret together, and the dimple in his cheek appeared again, quick as a flash. Tamsin thought she detected the subtle cadence of an Irish accent in his words. Without turning, he shut the door gently behind him and gestured for Tamsin to take a seat, into which she sank deeply. They were even more comfortable than they looked.

O’Meara stepped around his desk and sat in his own throne-like chair, his arms resting on either arm like they belonged there. He canted only slightly to the right, and Tamsin knew he was used to feeling like a king in his own home. Perhaps in many others as well.

“What is it that I can do for you?” Straight, pearly white teeth flashed behind thin lips. He took a moment to straighten his suit jacket and his textbook silver tie, though neither were even slightly out of place.

“Mr. O’Meara,” Tamsin began, leaning forward a little in her chair, “I’m here on a missing person’s case. Do you know a woman called Sethria Remis?”

O’Meara’s eyes shut and a slow smile spread languidly again on his handsome face. He leaned his head back, a hand raised to touch his lips with his fingers thoughtfully.

“Ah, yes. Madam Seth. Charming woman. I’m sorry to hear she’s gone missing. But that doesn’t explain why you’re here, in my office.”

“We traced her cell phone in hopes of finding her.” Tamsin licked her lips. If the display of wealth and power she’d been shown had done more than intimidate her just the slightest bit, it also gave her reason to tread lightly. At least for the time being. “It led me here,” she decided to be concise, and allow him to draw what conclusions he might.

O’Meara breathed deeply, loudly, before leaning forward. His elbows settled on the desk in front of him, and his fingers steepled. He pressed his mouth to them for a moment and stared piercingly at Tamsin.

“I take it you don’t have a warrant, Detective?” he paused, considering. Then he nodded and stood, his fingers pressing lightly against the table’s waxed surface. “Search the mansion, if you like. I have no missing persons here, let alone the lovely Madam Seth. But I would ask you to leave any closed doors as they are. You understand a man’s need for privacy, I’m sure?” The gentleman smiled indulgently at her, and Tamsin felt her guts roil uneasily at the sight of his dimple flashing in and out of existence on his cheek.

He stepped around his desk and offered his strong, rough hand to help her from her seat. She took it gingerly and stood as well. With a smooth, easy motion, he leaned over and the door snicked open quietly at his touch. Tamsin saw the butler still waiting stoically a few steps down the hall. He didn’t even turn his head to look.

“Walter will show you around.” O’Meara turned to leave, then stopped and turned again to face Tamsin. He smiled affably at her. “I do apologize, however. I have an appointment I must make, and will be leaving within the next ninety minutes. At that time, I must ask that you also vacate the premises.”

Tamsin responded with a tense smile of her own and nodded.

“Of course, sir.”

With a final dip of his chin, he turned and left. Walter stepped sharply up to the threshold as O’Meara’s staccato footsteps faded.

“On your leave, Ma’am,” he prompted her briskly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Late afternoon sunlight streamed steadily through the windows, giving the large airy apartment a warm glow of its own. Her heels clicked against the smooth gray floor as Lauren stepped over to the coat rack and pulled her favorite leather jacket from one of its hooks.

She was running late, again, a habit she was falling deeper and deeper into over the past few weeks. Lauren had once prided herself on her punctuality, but it had been growing harder and harder for her to keep her schedule as of late. Ever since she and Bo had become an item. The Succubus was impossible to resist.

Her lateness this time, however, was not due to her lover’s sublime advances. Lauren had spent much of the morning after Bo, Tamsin and Maia left examining Maia’s x-rays and brain scans to catch any blood clots, slow internal bleeding, or any other signs of severe brain damage that might have resulted from, or accompanied, her head trauma. And she’d spent a great deal of time keeping track of the oddly unseasonable cold front they’d been experiencing in the city, which only seemed to stretch within a few dozen miles of the city’s border. It was more than unseasonable, Lauren thought. She’d put together a list of Fae with the power to tamper in this way with the weather, at Hale’s behest. It was both short, and terrifying.

She’d also been poring over samples of Bo’s blood, and trying to develop a new serum for Bo’s injections. Odd enough that Bo had developed such a strong resistance to the old ones, but Bo’s Hunger had seemed to magnify ten-fold over the past few weeks as well. Trick had requested she run some extra tests on Bo, and the results had been baffling to say the least. Lauren felt that the old barkeep knew something he was refusing to tell her.

She was anxious, to say the least, about Bo’s wellbeing. Lauren pulled her coat on and stuffed her phone into its pocket. Her hand hovered over it as she fought the urge to pull it back out and call Bo. Just to check up on her.

Lauren’s lips pressed together into a tight, straight line. There was no time. Bo seemed alright a few hours ago, when she’d taken Maia back to the clubhouse with her. But Lauren was running dangerously late now, and Hale was growing less and less forgiving of that. She knelt at the foot of the counter that separated her kitchen from the living room to pick up her briefcase, and with quick, determined strides, made her way to the door.

She was almost within arm’s reach when the door creaked on its hinges, then crashed open and fell to the floor. Tawny eyes widened in shock and Lauren’s mouth dropped open, she barely managed to hold in a startled cry of fear. A massive shape bent to fit in through the doorframe, its golden, feral eyes burning, the sharp, angular features of his face twisted into a wild, hideous scowl. Hot breath echoed in a deep, muscular chest as the bear-like Fae stepped forward and towered over her.

Lauren stumbled back, dropping her briefcase to the floor with a loud clatter. A second frame, almost as large as that of the Bear that loomed over her, stepped through the doorway. Broad shoulders shrugged into a perfectly tailored Armani jacket, and the tall, well-dressed gentleman took his place between Lauren and the Shifter. He smiled amiably, a dimple showed in his right cheek and his brown eyes, so familiar to the perceptive doctor, twinkled good-naturedly.

“Now, Dolph. There’s no need to be rude,” his deep voice lilted with the barest traces of an Irish accent. He didn’t turn to address the Shifter behind him, only stared intensely at the blond doctor standing in front of him. Dolph seemed to ignore him, wild golden eyes focused on Lauren as her darker eyes scanned the room for a weapon, any weapon. She never kept one of her own, and Bo never left any of hers. The kitchen knives were her closest bet, but they were tucked away, safe, in a drawer. Too far for her to reach.

“Stand down, Soldier!” The gentleman’s voice was commanding, and left no room for disobedience. Dolph snarled, teeth flashing beneath his curled lip. Then he seemed to drop a few inches, the sharp, angular planes of his face flattened and blunted into Neanderthalic, human features. His lip was still curled in a sneer, and his eyes still glowed molten with his Bear, but he shuffled back a step and clasped his hands behind his back for good measure.

The briefcase could make a good, heavy blunt weapon. Lauren didn’t dare to glance at it, to pay it any attention. She held still, made no sudden moves.

Dolph’s commander suddenly smiled again, almost kindly. He offered a large hand for Lauren to shake. “My dear doctor Lewis. It is a pleasure.”

“Wish I could say the pleasure was mine,” Lauren hated how her voice trembled. Her heart beat terribly, she could hear every thudding stroke in her ears. Maia instantly came to mind. Without realizing it, her fingers hovered again over her pocket, where she’d tucked her phone.

O’Meara’s warm, calloused hands covered it immediately. He was gentle, even as he pulled the phone out of her pocket and dropped it on the floor. Tenderly, he swept his fingers over her cheek, her eyes shut tight in anxious anticipation.

“Not yet, Pet,” he whispered to her softly. His soft breath puffed against her hair. It smelled like spearmint, and the fragrance lingered in Lauren’s nostrils for a long moment. He moved away. Lauren’s fingers clenched and she opened her eyes again to stare in frightened bafflement at him.

“No harm will come to you, I assure you.” The gentleman gave her a calculating look, lips twitching against a cold, cruel smile. “At least, not yet.”

He turned away smartly, but Lauren saw that ruthless grin spread across his face like a hungry shark that smelled blood in the water. “I would appreciate it if you came quietly, Doctor.”


	7. Chapter 7

The air had grown cold not long after Tamsin had left Jack O’Meara’s immense property. It seemed the warmth of the day was held in a bubble over the grounds, but once out of its short range, the weather grew bitterly cold again, as it had been earlier that day, when she’d only just left the precinct.

So Tamsin had been forced to roll the window back up. The late afternoon sunlight glinted blindingly against her side and rearview mirrors. She was almost back in the city now, and on her way to Bo’s, with nothing to show for her efforts. Jack O’Meara’s mansion, and his grounds, had yielded her no answers.

It was a truly beautiful building. Tamsin had started her tour in the small guest room that had branched off from the hallway, the one she’d passed when Walter had led her down to O’Meara’s study. It was designed in a similar fashion to O’Meara’s office, the carpet and walls a warm, earthy brown, and its furniture waxed dark wood and bright burnished bronze. Books lined its walls, parchment and quills and fresh ink was in ready supply, and a small chess board waited patiently for its players to use it in a far corner of the warm, welcoming room. It had, like nearly every other room, as Tamsin discovered, its own little fireplace.

This guest room led to a small guest dining room, which led to an enormous kitchen, still hot and smelling of the day’s light lunch. Hot roast beef sandwiches, tomatoes and a cold, hoppy beer. The last especially made Tamsin’s mouth water. Here were two more doors that stood shut, denying her prying eyes access.

To Tamsin’s count, these were now four doors through which Tamsin could not pass. The first were the double doors in the foyer, then another in the left hallway, before the guest room, and two more in the kitchen. Walter informed her that the building had been constructed well before refrigerators had been invented, but Tamsin didn’t see a need for two doors to lead down to the same cold salt cellar, or two cellars that served the same purpose.

The kitchen had a third door, which was open, and led to another, less formal dining room. And, going in a complete circuit, with two more closed doors along the way, Tamsin saw the building’s massive library and informal living room. Everything looked spotless, the design of each room was ornate without feeling crowded, with a palette of browns, bronzes and golds clearly in mind. While old-fashioned, none of it seemed out of fashion.

It did seem somewhat unlived in, however.

Tamsin’s exploration of the ground floor of the mansion took up almost half the time she’d been allotted for her search. She was a little too in awe of the Narnian design of the house to feel truly disappointed, and still had the entire second story and garden to explore before she could call the trip a wash, however. So she urged Walter on, though the man seemed to need no urging. He led her up the fine staircase that spiraled from the lobby. Here was a straight hallway, with four doors opposite the canopy and two more on either side of the wall that extended past the railing. These were all open, and held inside guest bedrooms with their own bathrooms, reception rooms and small kitchenettes. Walter referred to them as ‘apartments’ and Tamsin could easily see why. Upstairs, the décor was given a lighter, cooler feel. The bedrooms were awash in bright buttercup yellows and soft baby blues. Polished silver and eggshell white were also common. Some of the guest rooms smelled faintly of lavender.

There had been two more doors upstairs that Tamsin had been denied access to, and these were situated on opposite ends of the hall. One led to Jack O’Meara’s own ‘apartments’, according to Walter. But try as she might, she could not convince him to tell her what lay behind the other. Eventually, with only twenty minutes left for her hunt, Tamsin asked the butler to show her around outside.

Tamsin sighed as she drove, pale green eyes searching the sides of the highway for even a hint of the brilliant colors she’d been exposed to in Jack O’Meara’s garden. Black walnut and red maple trees swayed in the breeze, the only remainder of the regal woods that surrounded the wealthy man’s property.

The garden had been almost magical. Thousands of different species of flowers grew there. Small ironwood trees scattered among the wildly growing flora. Stone benches lounged under the cool shade they offered, surrounded by the rich crimson of roses just beginning to bud, by the deep blues, yellows, and purples of a dozen kinds of flowers Tamsin could not begin to put a name to. Endless shades of an endless variety of plants had almost dizzied the usually stoic Valkyrie. A little brook had tinkled its meandering way at the deepest heart of the garden, and butterflies had frolicked beside dragonflies over its cool, glittering surface.

But the garden held no secrets other than those of thriving plant and insect life. Neither had the small pond, hidden by a copse of yet more ironwood trees. They followed the same red-bricked path that led them to it to the property’s nursery, where bees buzzed busily over the wild, sweet, blueberry honey the mansion’s silent employees harvested for Jack O’Meara’s fine, selective tastes.

The trip had not been totally in vain. Tamsin turned into the exit that would take her directly back into the city, a frown furrowing her brow as she considered everything she’d learned at Jack O’Meara’s mansion. While she was there, she’d been captivated by the grandeur of the fairy-tale castle he ruled over, it had dulled her senses, given her a sense of awe that distracted her from what she should have understood right from the beginning. Jack O’Meara wasn’t just a wealthy, influential man. He was a wealthy, influential Fae. And one that had not been a resident of his beautiful home for a substantial amount of time. And he had been trying to impress and intimidate her, not to turn her away.

Jack O’Meara was most certainly Dark.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bo puffed an errant lock of hair from her face, straightening for a moment over the sink and the dishes she’d been scrubbing diligently. The thick strands of brown hair fell back again within moments, forcing the Succubus to shove them behind her ear irritably.

While she had busied herself with chores and cleaning, Vex and Kenzi had opted to play an FPS not unlike Black Ops on Kenzi’s stolen console. Both had been cheering and groaning intermittently as they went through the game, neither of them taking any interest in their guest, who flinched visibly at the realistic violence depicted on the large flat screen TV. This wasn’t unusual in Vex, whose compassion seemed to extend no farther than his own self-interest. But it was a little odd in Kenzi, who was normally more socially and compassionately inclined than her Dark Fae friend. Instead, she showed a total lack of interest in their new case, and Bo’s new charge, and ignored the beaten girl, choosing to play a video game that obviously disturbed the curly-haired brunette.

Bo wondered for a moment if Kenzi might have been angry or resentful that Maia had rebuffed not only her offer to play a video game the day before, but if she’d also been feeling guilty that she hadn’t managed to convince the curly-haired brunette to stay, thereby saving her from her tragic experience. It made her wonder, though, if staying at the clubhouse would have stopped the Redcaps from coming at all, or if it would have only delayed them. And if Maia had stayed at the clubhouse, and the Redcaps had come after her anyway, what would have happened to Kenzi?

Bo’s useless musings were broken by a series of sharp, heavy knocks on the door. Her brown eyes darted to the entrance hall, and she took a deep breath. It must be Tamsin with some news, finally.

The Succubus spared a glance at Maia as she dragged her hands through a towel and strode to answer the rapid, urgent knocking. Maia had chosen to help Bo with her chores, and raised her head from where she slouched over a broom, trying one-handedly to manipulate the awkward wooden appliance into pushing around the dirt and dust bunnies into a tidy pile. Her small, sharp brown eyes met Bo’s for an instant before the older woman disappeared behind the badly damaged wall that separated the kitchen from the door.

Tamsin burst through the moment it was opened, pushing past Bo roughly, chattering away on her phone. A glower marred the blonde’s pretty features, and her faded green eyes glittered with her irritation.

“Yes, Sir.” The tinny, staccato voice on the line was muted by the sound of Tamsin’s high-tops as she stalked into the clubhouse, and by the muffled sounds of screaming and gunfire that came from Kenzi’s video game. “Well I certainly know that _now_ ,” Tamsin’s voice was sharp with her annoyance. She stopped at the island in the kitchen, green eyes settling on Maia’s brown ones thoughtfully. The human turned with a grimace to face the Valkyrie and settled her broom against the island’s edge.

“Yes! Got that whoring bastard!” Kenzi shrieked in delight, an avatar dressed in army fatigues fell with an exaggerated cry on the TV screen. Tamsin waved her arm behind her in an attempt to quiet the unmindful human.

“Oh no, darling. I’m afraid that kill was all mine!” Vex crowed. The score counter must have confirmed his statement, Kenzi squalled at him and would have argued, but for the sponge that flew between their faces. Dish water sprayed as the sponge splattered into the bottom right corner of the TV screen and fell with a wet thud to the floor.

Four sets of eyes settled on Maia, who winced visibly with the effort it took her to reach across the counter, snatch the sponge and throw it across the room.

“Shut up!” she whispered fiercely, scowling at Kenzi and Vex. Bo took the opportunity to lean over and snatch the remote from Kenzi’s lap, turning the TV off with a final, soft click and ensuring Tamsin had the quiet she needed to finish her phone call.

“Yes, I understand, _Sir_ ,” Tamsin all but growled into her phone before ending the call and stuffing the device into her coat pocket. The Valkyrie paused a moment, collecting herself, and knelt against the island again, her elbows braced against the tiled surface and her chin settled against her knuckles. She stared thoughtfully at Maia, who returned her glare unflinchingly, then broke eye contact and sighed. She sounded exhausted.

“Did you find it?” Bo prompted, hardly giving the blond a chance to speak.

“I found it. I followed the signal to a mansion outside the city – “

“Wait, you followed it?!” Bo’s voice was incredulous, “I thought you were going to call me when you managed to trace it?”

Tamsin’s eyes flared in anger. She shoved herself away from the island to confront the irritable Succubus.

“Wait a tick, you’re the one who said we weren’t partners, remember?”

“Enough!”

Maia’s bellow came as a surprise to everyone in the room. Tamsin and Bo turned to face the broken human, whose bruised face was a mask of irritation and impatience. “Ya’ll can decide who the alpha dog is later, okay? There are more important things to do right now.” Maia glared at the bickering women until they shrugged their shoulders in submission, and Tamsin turned again to face her, pointedly ignoring Bo while she continued her explanation.

“I followed the signal to a mansion outside the city. Place belongs to a dude called Jack O’Meara. He’s Dark Fae. Really well connected. I can’t touch him.” Tamsin watched Maia as she settled herself onto a stool, flinching at the obvious pain her splintered ribs, shattered wrist and beaten shoulder caused her. If the severe beating she’d been dealt the night before had been intended to scare her, or slow her down, it hadn’t, and only seemed to spur her even more.

“So, dead end then?” Kenzi chirped from the couch where she twisted around to watch the adults discuss their case. She sounded strangely nonchalant about it, it brought a frown to Bo’s face.

“I guess so,” the Succubus answered quietly, shooting her best friend a dark, pensive look.

“But you think that’s where Seth is? That this Jack O’Meara guy has her?” Maia looked from Bo to Tamsin. It was obvious she didn’t care if Jack O’Meara was god himself, she was that determined to bring Seth home. It seemed to Maia that now, it really boiled down to which of these women had the guts to help her.

A sudden, tiny surge of respect for the unyielding determination in the badly abused human blossomed in Tamsin. True, unyielding loyalty was hard to come by, few people offered it to such a degree when the object of their loyalties was gone, even possibly dead. And the girl showed a tough streak that seemed to have little to do with her physical prowess, or lack thereof.

Then again, perhaps such qualities were only missing among the Fae. Tamsin spared a quick glance at Kenzi, her pale green eyes thoughtful and her brow wrinkled into a deep-lined frown. Kenzi had shown remarkable loyalty towards Bo since the day they’d met, had displayed the same towards Dyson not a year ago, when he’d been left behind in the Garuda’s den. Her resourcefulness, and aforementioned loyalty, had earned her a place among the Fae she called family.

Lauren, also, had earned her standing with the Light. Tamsin knew that even the Morrigan coveted the doctor’s intelligence and work ethic, and her loyalties toward both the Light and to Bo were well tested and widely known.

Sometimes, it seemed to Tamsin that the humans that had immersed themselves in the world of the Fae often rose to the challenges presented to them with a relentless vivacity that she’d had to admit many of the Fae she’d known throughout her many lifetimes had seemed to lack.

“I know that’s where Seth is.” Tamsin straightened again and shook herself of her inner musings. She looked back at Maia, noting the hard edge to the human’s bruised and swollen features. She wouldn’t be pleased to discover that Tamsin’s hands had been proverbially tied: there was nothing the Valkyrie could ‘legally’ do to help her at this point.

Tamsin’s phone vibrated in her pocket, and it flashed wildly behind her fingers as she pulled it out and frowned down at the screen. “What I need is a warrant, but the judges and Elders keep shutting me down.” That was half the truth. The Valkyrie swiped her thumb across the screen and raised the phone to her ear, effectively putting the whole discussion on hold.

“Dyson,” she greeted, a cool smile crossing her lips. She’d been wondering when the Wolf would start really nosing into her business.

The smile fell almost as soon as it had come, however. Tamsin’s eyebrows knit together in a frown and her lips pursed together, “No, I haven’t.” The Succubus’ expression was grim, she touched her fingers to Maia’s hand reassuringly. Obviously, the Succu-let was still gung-ho about playing ‘hero’. Being unaligned certainly had its perks. Bo’s dark brown eyes rose to meet Tamsin’s searching gaze. “Hold on.”

The receiving end of her phone dropped from her face. The concern in Tamsin’s expression made Bo’s heart freeze in her chest.

“Lauren didn’t happen to decide to play hooky today and play nookie instead with you, did she?” Tamsin’s voice was soft, gentler than it had been all day, especially when directed at Bo. The Succubus felt her stomach drop, the blood drained from her face.

“No,” she croaked. Maia’s earlier anxiety over leaving Lauren at home alone returned to Bo suddenly, flooding her with cold fear and dread.

“Shit. I’ll meet you there,” Tamsin ended the call in a hurry and stuffed the phone back into her pocket. “Lauren’s missing, her apartment’s empty. The door’s busted open, but there’s no sign of struggle,” she explained, not giving the Succubus a chance to interrogate her. Tamsin was already on her way out the door, and Bo grabbed her jacket and started to follow suit.

“No. Bo. You have to stay here,” Tamsin’s words were sharp. She grabbed Bo by the elbow, knuckles turning white with the strength of her grip.

“Like hell I do! That’s my girlfriend that’s just been kidnapped!” Bo snarled, struggling to free her arm. Her eyes flashed blue for an instant, Tamsin’s nostrils flared and her lips curled in a responding snarl.

“We can’t keep separating like this! You have to stay with Maia and Kenzi, Bo! Dyson and I will handle this!” Tamsin shook Bo’s elbow roughly, trying, literally and quite badly, to knock some sense into the frightened woman.

“Bo, she’s right, we have to stick together.” Maia eased off her stool and settled a hesitant hand on the small of Bo’s back. Her small brown eyes searched Tamsin’s while she rubbed deliberate circles soothingly into Bo’s skin, “we’ll come with you.”

“No.” Tamsin spared a quick glance at Maia, then stared resolutely again at Bo. The Succubus’ eyes flashed blue again, her lips peeled back in another snarl. “It’s too dangerous,” Tamsin gave Bo another, gentler shake, “Dyson and I will find her, Bo. We’ll bring her back. But right now, I need you to circle the wagons, OK?”

The two women glared at each other intensely for a few minutes, Bo’s eyes undulating a slow, unsteady blue. A muscle in Tamsin’s jaw twitched. For a moment, Tamsin was sure that Bo was going to completely lose her shit.

Then Bo’s eyes flashed a deep, cold blue one last time, and settled back on their normal dark brown. Her lip quivered, her eyes flooded with desperate fear and resignation.

“Fine,” Bo’s words were weary, and as resigned as the frightened look in her eyes, “go.”

An unreadable expression crossed Tamsin’s face for an instant before the Valkyrie spun on her heel and dashed out the door. Kenzi leapt over the couch and rushed at Bo, gathering the crumpling woman into her small arms and crooning consolingly at her.

“Oh, Bo-Bo. It’s all gonna be OK! …”

Vex sighed, doing his best to appear bored, and snatched the remote from its resting place and flipped the TV back on.

Maia took a step back, feeling suddenly uncomfortable and out of place while Kenzi rocked and cuddled her distraught best friend. She bit her lip, watching them with a mixture of longing, fear, and overwhelming guilt, until she thought she saw a cruel, selfish smile flash across Kenzi’s lips. A frown suddenly furrowed itself onto Maia’s face. It must have simply been her imagination.

With a heavy sigh, Maia shuffled across the room to her sponge’s landing place and knelt with a painful grimace to pick it up. Until Tamsin called, again, with any news, there was only one thing that could distract her from the powerful anxiety and guilt that washed through her: chores.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The sound of Jack O’Meara’s expensive black loafers pattering against rock echoed in the cold silence as he led the way down the stone staircase. Dolph’s hand clutched painfully at Lauren’s elbow, he gave her a little shake to indicate he wanted her to move faster, and she nearly tripped down the steps trying to keep up. They’d made the hour-long car drive in complete silence, and their journey to the bowels of the mansion was no different. She hadn’t been given any opportunity to look about at the surroundings Tamsin had found so charming mere hours ago, only kept her eyes locked tightly to the back of Jack O’Meara’s head, her lips twisted into a snarled line.

The bottom of the stairs ended abruptly in a T-section. A cool draft from the right hallway brought with it the faint scent of fragrant wines, but O’Meara led them down the left. Torches burned in sconces in the narrow hall, spluttering weakly against the darkness that threatened to sweep through. Shadows gathered in the corners, pooled around Lauren’s feet as she followed unwillingly to a heavy unfinished doorway. O’Meara fit a large key into its lock, the tumblers groaned and spat against it as he twisted it. The door, in stark contrast, swung open silently.

The stench of disease and decay hit the doctor like a fist to the gut. She coughed and spluttered against it, hands immediately rising to her face in a weak attempt to block out the vile stench. They turned sharply to the right, and through eyes blurred with tears that gathered with the reek that threatened to choke her, Lauren could see they’d come to another, shorter hallway. Heavy iron bars extended to her left and right, broken by narrow expanses of stone wall. Torches sputtered along the broken wall here, and where the shadows leapt and recoiled in the corners, she could see moss and mold creeping along.

Even Lachlan’s dungeon was not quite as damp and dreadful as this. O’Meara led them to the furthest cell on their left, and with a smile that looked more mad than cheerful to the terrified doctor, turned another key into its lock and slid the gate open with a tired, dying shriek.

Dolph’s painful grip on her elbow finally slackened, Lauren felt O’Meara’s solid hand at the small of her back, pushing her almost gently into the cell. The gate cried shut behind her. She turned slowly, not bothering to hide the hatred and disgust that twisted her face into a furious grimace, and glared at her jailor.

“Make yourself comfortable, my dear. You may or may not be here for some time,” O’Meara chuckled and straightened his jacket compulsively. “Rather depends upon how soon your darling Bo comes for you, doesn’t it?”

“I think we went a little off target for a short while there,” his dark gaze drifted from Lauren’s fierce expression to the darkness that pooled and curled in on itself in the furthest corners of Lauren’s new prison, then slowly flicked back again, and he tutted softly. “It was surprising, that the human creature allowed another of the Dark to continue the investigation, considering the consequences. Still,” O’Meara reached between the bars of the cell, his fingers outstretched to brush gently along Lauren’s cheek and jaw. She recoiled from his touch, disgust flooding her expression and an angry light sparking in her eyes. O’Meara allowed his hand to drop by his side again, his tone thoughtful as though he only thought aloud to himself, “this will bring the Succubus back on track.”

O’Meara’s eyes focused on Lauren’s once again, and a clever, cold smirk crossed his thin lips, “won’t it, my dear?”

The cruel smirk, the fact that he’d kidnapped her for bait to get to the woman she loved, and the confident manner in which he turned and stalked out of the dungeon, with Dolph close at his heels, sent the typically calm and collected Lauren into a frenzy of panic and rage. She slammed her palm into one of the bars, light brown eyes ablaze, as she screamed after them, “leave her alone!”

“You leave her alone!” she cried, choking back a furious sob. The door slammed heavily behind them, and Lauren sank to the floor in a haze of shock and terror. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, an anguished groan fell from her lips as she curled into herself and leaned heavily against the bars of her cage.

“Lauren…” a weak voice croaked from among the shadows, accompanied by the sharp, wracking coughs of the terminally ill. Lauren whirled around, honey eyes searching the corners of her prison apprehensively. She swiped the tears from her face and stood, her legs trembling with the effort.

A dark, dejected shape shifted in the furthest, darkest corner. Pale fingers flashed wanly in the shadows. The shape shook with the wrenching coughs that seized it, and Lauren took a cautious step towards it. With every step, the shape solidified into that of a small woman, dressed in the rags of what had once been a very fine two piece skirt-suit. She was covered from neck to ankles in raw sores that seeped blood and a green-yellow pus.

Eventually, the coughs subsided. Lauren knelt beside her, fingers reaching to brush sweat-soaked silver hair from the petite Fae’s face.

“Lauren,” the woman croaked again, a tired smile breaking the sores that swelled along her graying lips. Dark brown eyes searched Lauren’s own for confirmation, though she seemed quite confident that she had put the right name to Lauren’s face.

Lauren nodded. The poor woman’s skin burned with fever, her skin, and breath, stank of disease and death.

“Seth?” Lauren ventured. This was the woman Maia was looking for, the woman she’d risked her life, and now Bo’s, to find. Pity and compassion swelled in Lauren’s heart – after everything Maia had gone through, she would find nothing more than a diseased corpse at the end of her terrible search. The bedraggled creature nodded weakly and covered one of Lauren’s hands with a trembling, icy one of her own.

Lauren brushed Seth’s hair away from her eyes, fighting against the flinch the radiating heat brought to her lips. Thick strands of the damp silver hair came away in her hand. She pressed her fingers against Seth’s palm.

“Can you squeeze my fingers?” she asked, voice soft, ever the doctor.

“This is no illness you will recognize, Doctor Lewis,” Seth murmured, though she curled her frigid, stiff fingers around Lauren’s. There was a weak, pitiful pressure before Seth’s strength failed her and her hand fell away. More dry coughs racked the tiny decaying bundle. Lauren pulled her coat off and settled it around Seth’s shoulders, lifting her gently to tuck the warm leather around as much of Seth’s body as she could manage.

Eventually, the coughing subsided again.

“Thank you,” Seth rasped, and sighed wearily as she slumped further against the wall. The Seer’s dull brown eyes brightened for a moment, and her lips curled a little at the corners in a weak attempt to smile, “how’s my Maia?”

Lauren grit her teeth against the dread question. Her fingers circled Seth’s limp wrist to check her pulse while she considered her answer. It was weak and faint, but still unrelenting.

“She’s strong,” Lauren pressed her lips together in a supportive smile and settled herself close to Seth’s shivering body, “she’s looking for you.” Her fingers searched for Seth’s hand lying slackly between them, and slipped reassuringly into its damp, cold grasp.

“That’s my girl,” Seth coughed, “that’s my Maia.” The Seer closed her tired eyes, a shadow of regret passing over her pale features, aged and twisted by pestilence and fatigue. “Fates be damned. If only she loved me less.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

She found him standing in the middle of the living room, with his back turned to her, his shoulders square and his feet shoulder length apart. He lifted his face and turned it halfway to gaze at her out of the corner of his eye. The late afternoon sun poured through the windows of Lauren’s apartment, turning the room golden, almost ethereal. A halo of light glowed around Dyson’s dark blond curls.

Tamsin picked her way carefully around the door that had been smashed off its hinges and lay in a splintered pile on the floor. Just as Dyson had informed her over the phone not twenty minutes ago: aside from the forced entry, there seemed to be no other sign of struggle.

“How’s Bo taking this?” Dyson asked in greeting as he turned to face his new partner. His face was scrunched up into a frown. “What were you doing at Bo’s anyway? Does this have something to do with the case the Morrigan put you on this morning?”

Tamsin sighed in response. Of course he’d done enough digging to find out about her meeting with the leader of the Dark Fae earlier that day. He may have even spoken to the tech guys she’d consulted with that morning to discover just what she’d been up to. She took a moment to think about her answer and meandered over to the kitchen counter. Her fingers hovered over the smooth, clean surface for a moment while she looked around at the scene.

“Her coat’s missing,” she chose to ignore his questions, and instead, pointed at the empty coat rack by the door. Lauren’s brown leather jacket was gone. Tamsin’s pale green eyes flickered to the floor at Dyson’s feet, “but her phone and briefcase are still here.”

One of Dyson’s eyebrows twitched before they both fell into a frown, he knelt to the floor and brushed his fingers over Lauren’s phone. He’d seen it earlier, of course, had noticed everything the blond detective was pointing out to him now. But aside from the empty coat rack, the busted door and Lauren’s phone on the floor, nothing seemed out of place. There was very little to go on.

“Tamsin, you have to bring me in on this. I can help you,” he fought to keep the annoyance he felt out of his voice, and tried to cajole instead. He barely managed quiet insistence.

“How’s the scene upstairs? Any sign of struggle there?” Tamsin wandered to the steps, her hands hovering over the railing. She was careful to avoid all eye contact with Dyson. As far as she was concerned, he was on a need to know basis, and right now, he didn’t need to know. For all the Valkyrie knew, this could be something else entirely. The Dark had coveted Lauren for almost as long as the doctor had been the ward of the Ash, for example. However, Tamsin doubted that the Morrigan would risk the outbreak of another Fae war for the sake of a human, no matter how genius she was or valuable she proved to be.

“No. No sign of struggle. Tamsin,” in one fluid motion, Dyson rose and crossed the room to grab Tamsin’s arm, pulling her around to force her to face him, “tell me what’s going on!” This time, he didn’t bother to hide the anger and irritation in his voice. His eyebrows were knit together in a frown, the lines deepening across his forehead and around his mouth.

A gust of air blew out between the Valkyrie’s lips and her jaw jutted forward stubbornly. Finally, she looked up to meet the Wolf’s pale blue eyes.

“Do you smell anything? Anything Fae?”

Dyson’s lips pursed angrily, and he ground his teeth together. Still, he stepped back and took in a deep breath. The whites of his eyes darkened to black and his irises shone gold with the eyes of his Wolf as he took in the scents of the apartment. His angry scowl turned into a confused frown.

“Bear. And… sea water…” The Shifter shook his head sharply, as if trying to clear his thoughts. Tamsin’s face scrunched in annoyed understanding, eliciting another glare from her partner. “This means something to you. Tell me what you know. Tamsin, I can help you,” Dyson’s voice dipped to a harsh, growling whisper, he was pleading with her now, “we are partners, remember?”

The Valkyrie looked about her, drinking in every clue, every indication that this time, it hadn’t been Redcaps sent to capture Lauren, but that the gentleman in charge had come himself in order to take Lauren into his custody. The broken door and the scent of Bear told her he hadn’t come alone: but the way the rest of the apartment seemed to be more or less in order told her that Dolph hadn’t come alone either, and that the Redcaps under his employ hadn’t come at all.

If her suspicions were correct, O’Meara had stepped up his game. He had made this personal. Not only to Maia, but to Bo. And Fae cared nothing for humans, Maia was nothing more than a pawn to stir Bo’s sympathies, to draw the Succubus right to his doorstep. But why?

“I’ll tell you everything on the way. Right now, we need to move, and I have to call Bo.” Tamsin was already at the broken threshold, her cell phone in hand. Dyson twisted and stared at her, confusion and worry written in the lines drawn across his face. She paused and cocked her eyebrow at him, “you coming?”

“Where are we going?” Dyson was by her side in an instant, his longer legs easily catching up to the smart clip Tamsin set as they turned the corner and left Lauren’s apartment behind.

“The Dal. We’re going to need Trick’s expertise with this one.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Maia cursed under her breath as she unfolded herself out of the backseat of Bo’s Camaro yet again. Her battered waist and shoulder seemed to hurt a little less, though Maia wasn’t sure if it was simply because she was getting used to the steady throb or simply the fact that she was a quick healer. Her arm and wrist ached relentlessly, and the cast she wore itched terribly. She pushed her glasses up her nose and brushed her fingers through her hair, assessing the sharp flare of pain that exploded from her shoulder blade and spiked across her back and ribs, and the way her bruised and swollen eye pounded against the added pressure of the rims of her glasses. Maybe a little bit of both.

Bo stepped around the wincing girl and slammed the door shut for her, a kinder gesture than Kenzi and Vex had managed. They had already vanished behind the Dal’s heavy wooden door.

“Bo,” Maia grasped at Bo’s arm and squeezed gently, calling the Succubus’ attention to her. Bo paused, took a deep breath to gather her frayed emotions, and turned to face Maia. The worry in her dark eyes pulled at Maia’s heartstrings. “We’ll find her, Bo,” one small, bare brown eye held fast to larger, black lined ones, and Maia leaned in and wrapped a thin arm around the anxious woman standing across from her. Bo stiffened at first, then sighed heavily and returned the hug. If anyone could possibly understand the fear and anxiety Bo was experiencing over Lauren, it was the beaten, fragile human that embraced her.

“I’m so sorry, Bo,” Maia mumbled softly into Bo’s hair, in a whisper so quiet, Bo wasn’t sure she’d been meant to hear it.

The dark-haired Succubus pulled away and grasped Maia’s shoulders. Her nostrils flared a little as she looked into Maia’s frightened, sorry eyes and grit her teeth against the resentment she wanted to feel, tried not to feel, in that moment.

“We will find them. Both of them. This is not your fault, Maia,” her words carried such conviction that Bo found that she believed them herself. She offered Maia a small mirthless smile.

Maia smiled back around the healing splits in her lip, though the smile never reached her eyes, and followed Bo inside.

Kenzi and Vex were already settled at their favorite stools at the bar, frosted, frothing mugs of beer in hand, and were nattering away together. Bo settled on a stool beside her best friend and leaned heavily against the cold, hard surface. Trick raised an eyebrow at his granddaughter and looked her over. Sympathy and concern shone clear in his wise old eyes.

“Hey,” he greeted monosyllabically and pushed a cold mug of beer her way. Kenzi threw an arm across her bestie’s shoulders, who promptly shrugged it back off.

“Tamsin and Dyson here yet?” Bo asked, too anxious and impatient to deal with any niceties. She wrapped her hands around the cold drink. Maia settled in the stool beside her hesitantly, clearly feeling uncomfortable and out of place.

“No, not yet,” Trick frowned at the human shrugging into her seat. Kenzi had been given the responsibility of explaining the situation to him while Bo drove over, with a little help from Vex, and they hadn’t been exactly subtle when they glossed over the events of the evening before. Still, it had been hard to picture the depth of the scraggy human’s abuse until she edged into her seat, flinching against her aching wounds and settling her cast over the smooth, polished surface of the bar.

The barkeep slid a cold beer in her direction, his eyes flickering over the swollen eye and stitches above them, observing the pained way in which she moved and the tiny smile of appreciation she offered in return for the drink. Rather than take a sip, Maia leaned down to press the bruised side of her face against the cold glass in an attempt to soothe the hot pain that pounded relentlessly along it. Lauren had warned her against drinking alcohol that morning, and as tempting as it was to down the relaxing substance, she trusted that the doctor knew what she was talking about when she’d told her it would slow down her recuperation from last night’s concussion.

Dyson and Tamsin were not long in arriving. The Valkyrie stalked into the Dal with the Wolf at her heels and made a beeline for one of the large trestle tables in the middle. The bar was still rather quiet, it was late in the afternoon, but still too early for most of its regulars to have started coming in yet. Bo, Maia, Vex and Kenzi each grabbed their beers and headed over to the table Tamsin and Dyson settled into, Trick not far behind with a beer in hand for each of the detectives.

Tamsin dropped a manila folder directly in the middle of the table as she and Dyson settled into their seats, side by side.

“This is the file the Morrigan gave me on Seth’s case,” Tamsin offered them in greeting. Bo swept it up and flipped it open, peering down at the pictures of Seth’s apartment after the Redcap’s attack and the various tidbits of information it offered on both the Seer and her human. There wasn’t much in it the Succubus didn’t already know.

Maia ignored her. She only stood at the edge of the table, holding the beer she felt would be too impolite to leave behind and looking more than a little uncomfortable. Bo shuffled into the seat opposite Tamsin, the file still in her hand and her attention completely absorbed in it. Vex dragged a chair over with a squawk and threw his legs up onto another, and Kenzi perched onto the end of the table. Drawing an anxious breath, and grimacing against the pain that shot up in her side, Maia took the only chair left to her, facing Dyson.

The Wolf tilted his head at her, a curious and disturbed frown marring his features.

“You look like shit,” he offered in greeting, unapologetic in his assessment, though his tone was not unkind. When Maia met his eyes, she found a glimmer of pity there that, while unwelcome, was not unappreciated. Few Fae ever felt anything akin to sympathy for a human.

“Well aren’t you a sweet-talker,” she replied, voice dripping with sarcasm, the slightest suggestion of a smile twinkled faintly in her unbruised eye.

“Perhaps we should start with an introduction?” Trick suggested drily, one eyebrow raised, and planted a pair of mugs brimming with beer in front of his newest arrivals.

Kenzi jumped up at the suggestion, a nefarious light glittering in her pale periwinkle eyes, “dibs!” she cried and hopped off the table to stand behind Maia.

Her hands fell around Maia’s shoulders, eliciting another flinch from the badly beaten girl, “Trickster, D-Man, this is Maia: the diva that started this whole mess,” Kenzi knelt to put her face up against Maia’s, “not that I’m blaming you, honey,” insincerity skulked in her voice like the undertone of the bass in a rock jam, and she gave Maia a quick squeeze of the shoulder, ignoring the glare the curly-haired brunette burned into the back of her head, before darting off to settle her hands around Dyson’s shoulders instead.

“This Big Broody Wolf is Dyson, otherwise known as ‘the D-Man’. His mope’s worse than his bite.”

The corner of Dyson’s mouth twitched, he turned halfway in his seat, his expression troubled, to furrow his eyebrows at Kenzi, whose sense of humor seemed… a little off.

But Kenzi had already bounced away to bump her hips against Trick’s shoulder, who dragged a stool over to the table for himself. The Blood King’s lips pressed together as he frowned up at his granddaughter’s best friend.

“And this is Trick, Keeper of the Way Station and – “

“Great, now we all know each other. Can we focus on finding Lauren now?” Bo interrupted, finally pulling her head out of the file Tamsin had dropped onto the table. She tossed the folder back onto the rough wooden surface, lines of worry and frustration furrowed across her pale features and an uncharacteristic harshness in her usually gentle voice. Kenzi shrugged, undisturbed, and pranced back to the edge of the table to perch upon it once again. Vex rolled his eyes at the human and took a long swig of his drink.

“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Tamsin lifted an eyebrow at the impatient Succubus, “the door at Lauren’s was busted down, but there were no other signs of violence. She even took her coat.”

“But left her phone,” Dyson added.

“And…” Tamsin paused for effect, her faded sea-breeze eyes flicking to Maia, “your man Dolph was there.”

Maia refused to meet Tamsin’s steady gaze. Dolph’s involvement in Lauren’s kidnap came as no surprise to her. Like both detectives working on her case, she didn’t believe in coincidences. But her guilt over involving Lauren, and bringing her to Seth’s kidnapper’s attention, swelled in her chest and Maia chewed on her bottom lip to hold back the angry tears that suddenly threatened to spill.

“There was another scent,” Dyson continued uneasily, “of the ocean… sea water. It smelled Fae, but I’ve never come across that scent before.” The dirty-blond Shifter tilted his head to look at his partner, whose eyes settled on Trick’s now.

“Any particular Fae come to mind?” Tamsin asked, “Maybe with a warrior background? Rich, Dark, influential? Most likely not local?”

Trick’s eyebrows were knit together in a focused frown. He waggled a finger at Tamsin, his gaze intense, and disappeared behind the door that led to his home to consult his books.

Tamsin sighed into the tense silence that followed and leaned back in her seat. She pulled her cold mug close to her and tipped it against her lips. The icy ale slid down her throat pleasantly. She settled it back onto the table carefully, her eyes focused steadily on the golden liquid.

“You know, if this is too much for you, playing against your own team, you’re free to go,” Bo shifted again in her seat, obviously unhappy that they weren’t already out the door and after the guy that threatened Lauren’s safety. She regarded Tamsin with suspicion, her fingers toyed with the beer between her hands, her nails sliding over the misted surface and leaving thin traces of clarity along the glass.

Annoyance flashed briefly in Tamsin’s faded green eyes, her mouth tensed with hurt, and she raised her gaze to meet Bo’s. Her hands flattened over the table and she leaned forward again in her seat.

“I really should, since no one seems to want me here,” she replied, almost venomously, “least of all the Morrigan.” Tamsin made no move to get out of her seat, however, only stared angrily back at the Succubus that challenged her. “She called me in on my way back from O’Meara’s to take me off the case. Even dared to call my loyalties into question,” inner turmoil writhed in Tamsin’s expression, barely guarded, and her voice betrayed her own conflicted motivations. Still, she made no move to leave.

“So what the hell are you still doing here then?” Kenzi interjected suspiciously, “I mean, the Morrigan’s the only reason you took this case, and since when do you care about Doctor Hotpants?”

“Oh, do allow me answer that!” Vex straightened suddenly in his seat, finally taking an interest in the discussion. His eyes lit up with a mischievous smile that broadened across his face, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but your sudden determined disobedience wouldn’t have anything to do with that steamy little love affair you had goin’ with the Seer a few years back, now, would it?” Vex bit his lip and dipped his chin, eyebrows rising as he grinned suggestively at the Valkyrie under scrutiny.

The mockery in his voice, and the five sets of probing eyes that settled on her made Tamsin’s skin crawl and her nostrils flare.

“You know Seth?” Maia’s voice was quiet, inquisitive. Tamsin met her unswollen eye, it glittered obscurely, and her bruised face was a mask Tamsin could not read.

“Could be a Fomor.”

Tamsin had never been so grateful for an interruption in her life. The Blood King strode back into the bar carrying a heavy tome in his hands, totally oblivious to the topic under discussion. Tamsin shot Vex a furious glare, he grinned back at her roguishly before leaning back into his seat and burying his face in his beer.

“A what?” Bo asked impatiently, Vex’s juicy bit of gossip instantly forgotten in light of this new revelation. Trick dropped the massive book on the table in front of her, his finger pointing at the page he was referring to. Bo pulled it closer to her, eyes quickly scanning the page for relevant information. They settled on a black and white picture of a wood etching depicting warriors, some on horseback, others on foot with swords drawn and furious scowls on their faces while they slaughtered and herded masses of people: men, women and children alike. The expressions on the besieged people were ones of stark terror. The skies in the image roiled with angry clouds, leaving a bitter taste in Bo’s mouth and a twisting in her gut.

“An ancient, seafaring Fae that originates from Ireland, the Fomor are a warrior people with immense power over the forces of nature, and can bring forth fog, storms, disease, blights and plagues. They feed upon death, fear, and despair…” Bo trailed off as she read aloud, a scowl creeping steadily across her features as she went along.

“A Fomor? Trick, I thought they were extinct,” Dyson interrupted, rough voice quiet and thoughtful. Trick pursed his lips and nodded.

“Almost. There is still one, aligned with the Dark, and very powerful. He could have become an Elder long ago, but he’s continuously refused the position. His last known whereabouts is at his castle in Ireland, and I don’t know what reason he could possibly have for relocating here, but he does seem to fit a little too well with your description.”

Tamsin cocked an eyebrow at the old bartender, a humorless smile curling the corners of her lip.

“Does his name happen to be Jack O’Meara by any chance?” The Valkyrie rose out of her seat, already aware of the answer to her question. Bo shoved her own chair aside, the muscles in her jaw jumping and her eyes flashing with dark zeal.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s get that son of a bitch.”

Maia’s chair scraped against the ground as she rose to her feet as well. Her mouth pressed into a pale, twisted smudge, blood welling from the thin red line that split the bottom lip.

“This time, I’m coming too,” her eyes glittered cold and dark, shoulders set in her determination. She glared at Bo, daring the Succubus to stop her, to argue. Her hands curled into tight fists, the knuckles whitening with tension, and crossed resolutely across her chest.

“Kid, you’d be more a liability than a help. You can barely stand up as it is,” Dyson frowned down at Maia, his tone patronizing and immediately springing a silent, resentful snarl to Maia’s lips. Her hackles raised in annoyance and anger.

“Last time, they caught me naked. Literally. This time,” Maia flashed her casted arm up in Dyson’s face, brandishing it aggressively like a club or a mace, “I’m armed.” She spun to face Bo, daring the Succubus to deny her.

Bo opened her mouth to argue, but discovered that she couldn’t. Her eyebrows knit together as she took in the hardened, angry woman that stood in front of her, who’d already gone through so much to get Seth back, who was still willing to risk even more to get Seth back. And how could she argue? Wasn’t Bo willing to do the same for Lauren? How could she deny the strong, resilient human her right to fight for and defend the woman she loved, when Bo was just about to do the same?

Her mouth closed, lips pressing together as she drew in a long breath through her nose. Understanding passed from Bo’s eyes to Maia’s. The human would find no resistance here.

“No, Bo, wait!” Trick scrambled to block the exit to the bar, “This is reckless. The Fomor worship chaos, they’re cunning and manipulative. Just think about it, what could he possibly want with Lauren? O’Meara isn’t stupid. He won’t underestimate you, and you shouldn’t underestimate him.”

Bo stared down at her grandfather for a long minute. She let his words sink in, considered them slowly. But it didn’t matter. It really only boiled down to one thing:

“He has Lauren, Trick.”

She stepped around him, determination radiating from her in powerful, angry waves, and slipped out the door into the cold afternoon outside. Tamsin and Maia followed close behind, the former raising a cocky eyebrow at the barkeep as she brushed past and the latter ignoring him almost entirely.

Trick flapped his arms at them in consternation, frustrated that no one ever seemed to listen to him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish fighting for air. Dyson settled a large hand on the barkeep’s shoulder, bending to be at eye level with his friend.

“I’ll look after her, Trick. I’ll keep her safe,” his rough voice was soft with the solemnity of his promise. Trick stared piercingly into his pale blue eyes, his mouth set in a thin line under the short salt-and-pepper beard.

“Bring her home, Dyson.”

“On my honor.” The Wolf raised his fist in a salute to the Blood King, who raised his own and bumped his forearm gently against the Shifter’s, sealing the oath. Trick drew in a deep breath and expelled it immediately, anxious for the safety of his granddaughter and uneasy about the whole situation. Dyson straightened and, with a final, companionable pat to Trick’s shoulder, strode out after the women that waited for him outside.

Kenzi was the last to leave. She sucked down a quarter of her tankard of beer while Dyson and Trick spoke, and hopped off the edge of the table to follow at Dyson’s heels. She stopped at the doorway, the afternoon sunlight streaming in behind her and casting a long shadow into the dimly lit bar.

“Dude,” she spoke to Vex, who lounged still in his seat and gulped down his ale, “aren’t you coming?”

“Naw, love.” The Mesmer gave her a lopsided grin, reaching over to snatch her discarded beer and pour its contents into his own cup. “No juice, no Mesmer.”

Kenzi threw him an impatient, incredulous glare. He only shrugged back at her, “Not my girlfriend trapped by an evil madman, is it? Go on! They’re waitin’ for ya!” He tipped his mug back and drank sloppily around his crooked grin. Bo’s voice drifted through the open door as she called for Kenzi. The Russian rolled her eyes at Vex, threw a hand into the air in defeat, and turned away, allowing the door to bump shut quietly behind her.

The corner of Trick’s lip jumped in disgust as he stalked to the table Vex still occupied. He snatched the heavy glass mug from Vex’s grasp, much to the Mesmer’s dismay, and started clearing the table, doing his best to ignore Vex’s aggravated protests.

 


	9. Chapter 9

For the second time that day, Tamsin found herself on the highway, driving between the soldiering front lines of the tall, waving ash and black walnut trees. Like before, the weather as they drove out of the city limits grew steadily warmer, and by the time Tamsin had veered onto the exit that would ultimately lead her to Jack O’Meara’s property, the truck was sweltering hot and all the windows had been rolled down to let in a little air.

Dyson rode shotgun beside her. He leaned just slightly out the window, allowing the wind rushing past to ruffle his curls and smooth the stress lines across his face. Sometimes, Tamsin thought, he really was just like a dog. A grin curled the corner of her lip before she managed to catch and suppress it. It was good to have her partner at her side again. Jack O’Meara had left a bad taste in her mouth the last time she’d been to see him, and though she would never admit it, to anyone or herself, the old Fae frightened her, just a little. There was a madness in his eerie brown eyes that unsettled the Valkyrie.

“We should have taken two cars,” Bo grumbled in the back. She, Kenzi and Maia were squeezed into the backseat of Tamsin’s old truck, and though they were all slim, the day’s sudden, unexpected warmth and the fact that Tamsin’s backseat windows didn’t roll down more than a quarter of the way made the backseat feel close, claustrophobic and uncomfortable.

“Why didn’t we take two cars?” Kenzi asked, the question coming out quite snappish and ill-tempered. Her nose scrunched in irritation and she turned away from the window to look at Bo, “You know, if we get Lauren back, she’s not sitting on my lap on the way home.”

“When…” Bo growled, her nostrils flaring with determination, “… _When_ we get Lauren back!” the Succubus glared across at her best friend. The heat and the uncomfortable closeness of the backseat, as well as her nervous anxiety over her lover’s wellbeing, had put her in a foul mood. But it wasn’t escaping her attention that Kenzi was behaving rather strangely all day: that she’d been almost un-Kenzi like since she and Maia had arrived at the clubhouse they called home that morning.

“Ladies! Please, for the love of all that is holy, shut up!” Tamsin rolled her eyes in exasperation at the women glowering at each other in the backseat. Maia rolled her eyes with the Valkyrie and traded annoyed looks with her through the rearview mirror, sharing Tamsin’s vexation, albeit more quietly. The human drew in a deep, calming breath, stuck between the Succubus and her pet and in the hottest seat in the car.

“Are we there yet?” Bo leaned forward to grasp at Tamsin’s seat, head leaning as close to the window as possible to catch as much of the breeze that blustered in as she could. Her dark, thick hair stuck to her neck and the sides of her face and the warm breeze felt almost cool against her damp skin.

“Bo, if you don’t sit back and shut up, I swear I’m turning this car right around. No more Disneyland for you, you little brat!”

Dyson couldn’t help but chuckle at his partner. He turned his face to shoot Bo an almost apologetic smile; she just grit her teeth and stared back at him, on edge and unable to enjoy any sense of humor.

“We’re here,” Tamsin sighed in relief as the road swerved around and the thick line of trees opened up in front of them. Maia leaned forward in her seat, ignoring the sharp stab across her shoulders and back, to stare in absolute awe at the fairy-tale scene that unraveled before her. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

“So, what’s the plan?” Maia hadn’t spoken throughout the trip, her voice sounded almost pale after the angry bickering and the loud bluster of wind buffeting the windows. Bo and Kenzi turned sharply to face her, both with dismayed expressions lining their faces.

Dyson’s lips pursed, he twisted in his seat to look at Maia and gave a slight shrug in response to her question.

“I guess we’ll just play it by ear. Bo’s usually pretty good at that,” he nodded at the brunette that glared back at him grumpily. Her fingers played together on her lap, she looked antsy and uncomfortable. It didn’t instill a whole lot of confidence in Maia, who gave her a quick, calculating look before sighing resignedly.

“So… basically, don’t die,” Maia muttered under her breath, turning her attention back to the long, arching driveway and the cheerful flowers and ironwood trees that waved to them lazily in greeting, “Great. This is gonna be just peachy…”

The car slowed to a stop beside the unadorned automated guard booth that stood sentry before the gates.

“O’Meara Estate. Please state your business,” it rattled off in its familiar monotone.

“Detective Tamsin. Police business,” Tamsin’s response was succinct, she drummed her fingers impatiently along the windowsill of her car and sighed loudly as she considered Maia’s sudden uncertainty.

The gates opened for them grandly, inviting them to the twisted paradise that lay beyond it.

“Welcome,” the booth echoed the gate’s silent greeting, and Tamsin let up the brake and tapped the gas gently to roll the truck through. Everyone stared out the window at the grandeur that spread before them, sucking in as much of the sweet fragrant air as their lungs could hold and soaking in the beauty that surrounded them.

“Just let the superheroes fight the bad guys. We go in, you and Kenzi get the Doc and Seth out of wherever this guy is keeping them, and we get out. No heroics from either of you, got it?” Tamsin spared Maia a sharp, fleeting glance through the rearview mirror, her faded green eyes glinted in the setting sun. Maia nodded in response and her mouth curled in a tense little half-smile as felt a little of her confidence return to her.

Just like before, Walter stood on the lip of the porch, silver tray of hot moist towelettes in hand and the same snooty expression on his face. He waited patiently for the passengers to stumble out of the vehicle and skip up the steps. The dying sun glinted painfully off the tray and spread long, dark shadows across the lawn and pristine white steps of the veranda. Aside from the sun’s position, Tamsin thought, and the additions to her party, the current scene was almost identical to the one she’d come upon earlier that day. Nothing was out of place. She wondered absently if anyone ever sat in the padded porch chairs and sipped cold tea or coffee at the table. Shame if they didn’t.

The Valkyrie and her partner both flashed their badges at Walter, though he seemed to take no notice of them. He only offered his tray of towelettes, and thus ignored, gave a sharp nod and turned to lead them into the mansion. The sun’s last rays flared as a cloud scudded across the sky, turning the edges that touched the trees a bruised purple, and the clouds a bloody, violent scarlet, before it finally slipped below the horizon and twilight fell.

Tamsin shifted uneasily and followed the crowd in.

In stark contrast to the sudden flare of bright sunlight outside, the interior was blindingly dark. It took them a few moments to adjust to the sudden change of light, but that was all Walter needed to slip in behind them and shut the door. Tamsin heard the lock click at the very same moment her brain registered that the dark shapes looming ahead of her were those of half a score of Redcaps, all grinning madly beneath their bloodied hats and fanned around them in an uneven semicircle. Each of them held weapons of some kind: knives and heavy-duty box cutters glittered in the dim lighting, and the blunt, heavy shapes of baseball bats and crowbars bounced and waved in the half-shadows threateningly.

Maia sucked in a sharp breath and backed into her suddenly. Tamsin could feel the curly-haired human tremble slightly against her, and chanced a glance at the frightened, furious woman to see that her jaw was clenched so tightly she could see the muscles flex. Her face flushed crimson and her lip twisted into a tight snarl, and her uninjured eye widened almost comically in reaction to the threatening display before them.

Dyson gave a low growl beside her, and the three Fae shoved the pair of humans between them protectively and circled them. A soft, deep chuckle came from behind, and Tamsin and Dyson spun on their heels, only to get a face full of rippling muscle and wicked teeth gleaming from behind a cruel grin. Golden eyes glittered down at them, and Dolph’s beastly chuckle faded into echoes.

Walter stepped around the Bear smartly and put his untouched tray of hot towels down on a side table, careful not to disturb the arrangement of flowers, guest book, and quill and ink pot. He straightened slowly and clasped his hands in front of him.

“Master O’Meara’s been expecting you.”

One of the Redcaps snickered, tearing their attention away from Dolph and back to the scraggly semicircle of blood-capped ‘gents’ that boxed them in. The smirks and sneers on their faces sent chills down Maia’s spine, her stomach churned with her anxiety, and her gaze drew like a magnet to a Redcap wearing a cast covered in small, sharp spikes glued on for him by his mates. Duncan saw the recognition spark in Maia’s terrified eye and his yellowing teeth peeked behind cruel lips in a knowing smile. His tongue darted out to lick his upper lip suggestively, and he twirled a knife in his uninjured hand. Pale light bounced off the edges of the blade, and Maia recognized that too, as the dagger they had used to slice through her thigh.

Her breathing quickened, her eyes widened in panic and she stumbled backwards into Tamsin again. The Valkyrie gently placed a steadying hand on the small of the human’s back. Her pale green eyes found Duncan’s, and her lip curled up in a silent snarl. She felt Maia draw in a deep breath and steady beside her as the human fought to control her fear, and succeeded. She still trembled under Tamsin’s calming hand, but stood her ground all the same. Bo, observant to the wordless, emotionally charged exchange between the human and Redcap, moved to stand protectively between them.

Walter stepped out from behind Dolph and strode to the end of the circular vestibule. His gloved hand grasped the bronze doorknob of the double doors that rose solidly over the plush red carpet and he cleared his throat, calling for everyone’s attention.

“Follow me, if you please.” The butler twisted the doorknob and pushed both doors open. The tails of his long jacket flapped behind him as he bustled through, leading the way through the chamber Tamsin had been denied access to earlier that day. Dolph and the Redcaps revolved around the party of five, so that Dolph led and Duncan and his boys covered the rear, and thus arranged, they moved forward.

The red carpet extended down the length of what Tamsin found was a majestic, old-fashioned ballroom. It deepened in color the farther it rolled down the center, from bright red into a deep burgundy, rich and dark. The floors beneath were a warm, waxed dark wood. Its grain was flecked with a dark gold that glinted beneath the steady glow of the massive bronze chandelier that hung from the high vaulted ceiling. The walls blushed a rosy gold, giving the chamber a warm, summer afternoon glow. The center of the floor was bare, but for the darkening carpet that stretched languorously across it. Furniture scattered only along the room’s edges, dark wood chairs, barely a shade lighter than the wood of the floor, with legs that curved into clawed paws, with backs and seats padded with a dark bronze-colored velvet. The tables that littered the edges of the floor were also the same dark wood and carved in the same elegant fashion as the chairs. A bar stretched across the far left side of the room, its bronze edged top gleaming fluidly beneath the chandelier’s candle-like light. Endless bottles of liquor populated back-lit glass shelves in startling colors ranging from the clear colorlessness of vodka to the deep ambers of rich ports and rums and whiskeys to the neon greens and blues of absinthe and hypnotic and aftershock.

The bar’s edge dropped off suddenly in the middle of the room. Where the rich burgundy carpet ended was a pedestal set upon three shallow steps, and upon that sat an elegant throne. Carved out of a wood that was almost black, with deep whorls of grain that shone copper in the light, and inlaid with rosy copper along its edges, it sat regally, patiently waiting its master to sink deep into the thick, dark velvet cushions. A heavy purple throw was strewn carelessly across its back, lending a sudden splash of color that drew the visitors’ eyes directly to it.

The warm, sweet scents of honey and citrus wafted tantalizingly through the cool, crisp air.

“Whoever designed this room was a genius,” Kenzi breathed. Truly, despite the tense situation the gang was in, the ballroom had inspired an unnatural relaxation in them all. Tamsin’s shoulders, knotted and stiff, slowly loosened. Her hand on Maia’s back slid down an inch, and she noticed offhandedly that the human’s trembling had abated. Maia’s uninjured eye blinked rapidly, a dreamy expression relaxing her features as they slowly crossed the room. If her surroundings hadn’t stimulated such strange serenity in her, Tamsin might have found it incredibly odd for the curly-haired brunette to feel so calm with Duncan and his boys creeping along behind.

On the throne’s side opposite the bar, a heavy baby-blue velvet curtain draped in rich folds over the wall and pooled on the floor. This was where Walter led them, he brushed the drapes aside and fit a small iron key into a lock. Frigid darkness gaped over the threshold and they stumbled across into the tight hallway that waited for them beyond the pale, sky-blue folds.

Tamsin heard the others gasp in shock as the cold pinched at their skin and woke them from their dreamy states of mind. She blinked, then bared her teeth in a snarl as the realization that she’d been led through a room she’d been denied access to in her earlier visit to another she didn’t even know existed set in. A Redcap prodded Dyson beside her, eliciting an angry, uncertain growl from the bewildered Wolf, and a glare from both the Succubus and the Valkyrie. Maia shivered beneath Tamsin’s supportive hand, shaking off the illusion of tranquility and well-being the ballroom had conjured in her. Only Kenzi seemed indifferent to what had transpired.

Walter’s footsteps bounced across the stone walls, receding down along the flight of steps that fell before them. Dolph followed, his own footsteps heavier. Bo and Tamsin shared a troubled glance at Kenzi, who tripped along after, looking entirely unruffled. They, Dyson and Maia followed along with more trepidation, just fast enough to keep the jeering, giggling Redcaps behind them from poking at them with their blades and bats.

The landing offered a little more light to see by than the top of the steps. Torches guttered along the walls, the flames crackling and snapping like small knuckles. A T-section opened up before them, and like Lauren, and no doubt Seth before her, the group was led down the left.

The heavy, unfinished door at the end of the hall opened silently, and Walter and Dolph stepped through without pause. Bo and Kenzi were the first in after them, both spluttered in shock at the reek that hung heavily in the stale air. Tamsin and Maia followed, squeezing through the rough stone portal and stopping momentarily just over the threshold. Maia gasped and coughed, the thick stench of disease and death enveloping her and tearing the breath from her lungs. Her eyes watered and she gagged, lifting the collar of her leather jacket to cover her nose and mouth, though she discovered as she attempted to draw breath through the dense material, it hardly muffled the penetrating odor.

Dyson was the last of their party through, and no one envied his powerful sense of smell now. The Wolf doubled over at the overpowering aroma, breathless and dizzy, eyes watering and nose running in an attempt to expel the offending stench.

“Oh, god, what died in here?” Maia’s face was crumpled against the sickening reek of the dungeon, her voice shook with fear and anxiety at the potential answer to her question. Her good eye squeezed shut against it, and behind the thick fabric of her coat collar, she bit her lip hard enough to crack open the split still healing there. She welcomed the sharp, bitter taste of her blood in her mouth, almost as much as she was grateful for the reassuring squeeze of Tamsin’s hand on her shoulder.

If Walter, Dolph, or the Redcaps that filed in behind them detected the vile stench that encased them, they made no outward notice of it. They seemed wholly unperturbed by it. Walter fiddled with a heavy iron lock at the end of the narrow hallway the gang had been brought to and slid open the barred door with a rattle and screech that made Tamsin’s teeth ache. Bars seemed to surround them an all sides, broken only by narrow breaks of rough stone wall. Duncan and his boys prodded them onward, and Tamsin found herself herded with her fellows into a dank, dark cell. The shadows leapt and shuddered fitfully close to the bars, and grew deeper and blacker as they receded further into the cell.

Dyson faltered at the chamber’s edge, and was shoved unceremoniously in by Dolph, whose lips curled in a slow, malevolent grin and he winked almost gleefully at the Shifter that still gasped at the poisonous air. The gate grated shut behind him ominously.

“Oi! Pooh Bear! We were promised a good brawl!” one of the Redcaps shouted suddenly, shattering the unsteady, splintered silence that had followed them into captivity. His mates cheered and with a smattering of curses and agreements, surged forward to be let into the cell with their prey.

But Dolph unleashed a throaty snarl that ricocheted across the pitted walls and stony floor, driving the eager Redcaps back to huddle against the opposite cell’s bars. Maia’s ears rang with each painful echo.

Walter cleared his throat quietly, calling their attention to him. His politeness seemed almost comical, and entirely out of place, in the vulgarity of his surroundings and companionship.

“I will alert the Master to your arrival,” he tilted his head at their ‘guests’, and didn’t so much as glance at the resentful crowd of blood-capped Fae before turning on his heel and marching smartly out of the dungeon.

Dolph straightened, his back to the prisoners, a watchful eye on the Redcaps clustered in front of him, and clasped his hands together. Uneasily, they all settled in to wait.

 


	10. Chapter 10

“And now we’ve willingly walked ourselves right into a trap.” Sarcasm dripped from Tamsin’s words. The Valkyrie’s eyebrows were knit together in a tight frown and her lips pulled together in annoyance. Dyson stood behind Dolph, glaring at the stoic Bear on the other side of the immovable iron gate. Bo and Kenzi stood to the side, the former with a frown identical to Tamsin’s lining her face and the latter fiddling with the wrist warmers that covered her hands from palms to elbows. Her nonchalance at the situation troubled Tamsin, she knew the human had a tendency to hide her fear behind a veneer of cool indifference and witty humor, but even this seemed uncharacteristic in the raven-haired young woman.

“Bo?” a familiar voice rasped from the impenetrable depths of the cell they’d been ushered into. Dingy and disheveled, but unharmed, Lauren crept from the shadows, her features both hopeful and terrified at once, as she advanced into the weak, sputtering reach of torchlight.

“Lauren!” the Succubus gasped. Everything suddenly forgotten, she rushed past Kenzi to pull Lauren into a tight embrace, hands reaching and grasping and touching her lover all over to reassure herself of Lauren’s presence, that she was really there, she was really okay.

Lauren’s arms circled Bo. She buried her face in the thick tresses of Bo’s chocolate hair, breathing her in deeply and choking back sobs of relief and anxiety. It had only been a few hours since O’Meara and Dolph had shown up at her apartment and brought her here, but those hours had been filled with fear, anxiety and miserable discovery. Lauren squeezed her eyes shut, her arms tightened around Bo, and she pressed her lips to Bo’s shoulder, her heart hammering against her ribcage at the events she knew would unfold. The pit of Lauren’s stomach fell at the dismal situation they were in, captured in the dank, underground dungeon of a powerful Fae madman. Still, she melted into the body held close to hers, her fingers dug deep into the creases of Bo’s jacket, and she pressed a desperate kiss to Bo’s lips, finding solace in the Succubus’ warm, silken mouth and comfort in the strong, loving arms that embraced her, so grateful for Bo’s arms around her she felt she might burst, and desperately wishing Bo were anywhere else but here, all at once.

Tamsin and Maia turned away modestly, both too embarrassed to watch the way Lauren and Bo parted only briefly to stare at each other, only to lean in again and share hungry kisses. Their words were mumbled, mingled with passionate lips and caresses and sighed, choked sobs. Maia spared a glance at the blonde that shifted uncomfortably beside her, at the lonely, almost longing expression that tightened the corners of her mouth into a wistful smile and pulled her eyebrows askance.

Clumsily, she slipped her hand into Tamsin’s, suddenly finding a strange common ground with the outcast Valkyrie. She avoided Tamsin’s startled, questioning glance, and instead cradled her throbbing broken arm closer to her chest. Tamsin didn’t pull away, only mumbled something about needy humans and physical contact and redirected her glare to the floor between her feet.

“Holy cheeseballs, get a fucking room already,” Kenzi’s sharp voice broke the tenderness of the moment. Maia’s brow creased at the callousness that had run jaggedly in Kenzi’s demeanor ever since she and Bo had arrived at the broken-down club house earlier that day, a callousness she could have sworn didn’t exist in the charming, bubbly girl she’d met the day before.

Lauren and Bo pulled apart again, the Succubus turning to glare in mixed irritation and confusion at her best friend and the doctor’s tawny eyes probing the faces around her, searching for the right one. Her gaze settled on Maia, and with a reassuring kiss brushed gently to the backs of Bo’s knuckles, she delicately disentangled herself from Bo’s tight, grateful hold and reached instead for Maia.

Her expression was somber. Pity and regret swirled in her sad caramel eyes, and she settled gentle fingers on Maia’s shoulders.

“I’m so sorry, Maia. There wasn’t anything I could do.”

Maia’s eyes widened, the swollen flesh on the side of her face tightening painfully, as she returned Lauren’s remorseful stare with an anxious, questioning one of her own. Lauren’s gentle grip on her shoulders pulled at her in answer, she tilted and jerked her head to indicate Maia to follow, and the doctor led her into the darkest corner of the dungeon, deep in the recesses from which she’d emerged. Tamsin shadowed them, footsteps uncertain, her hand still clutched obliviously in Maia’s sweaty palm.

Her eyes adjusted slowly to the cold dimness that enveloped them. A bundle draped in what were once richly colorful, expensive clothes but were now grime encrusted rags shuddered and coughed quietly. Runny eyes opened a sliver, and Maia drew in a sharp breath of recognition as they settled blearily on her. She dropped to her knees, releasing Tamsin’s hand suddenly, and wrapped shaking arms around the feverish, dying creature that huddled defeatedly in the corner. 

Lauren stepped back, her hand reaching for Bo’s, for comfort, strength and assurance and huddled instinctively into Bo’s open arms. Seth was fading fast. They wound their arms around each other’s waists, clung to each other and leaned in to one another’s warm, firm bodies for comfort, for support, and looked on in sympathy as Maia held the woman she loved for what could be the last time.

Maia could only whisper Seth’s name in harsh, croaking echoes as she pulled the Seer into her arms. Frantically, she brushed Seth’s matted, greasy hair across her forehead, wiped tears and grime and blood from her face, kissed her cheeks and cried quietly into Seth’s hot neck. The Seer pulsed with fever, and the stench of disease and decay rolled off her weak, dying body in waves.

Seth regained a small amount of energy and consciousness at Maia’s touch. Her eyes fluttered again and she settled her arms, covered in bleeding sores that seemed to spread over every inch of her graying, mottled skin, over Maia’s, her fingers stroking her human’s bruised shoulders and cheeks tenderly.

Maia’s battered state didn’t escape the weakened woman’s observant gaze. Seth pried herself carefully from Maia’s desperate hold on her and eyed the broken girl critically. Her tired expression softened, her eyelids fell shut again as she allowed Maia to pull her back into the circle of her arms.

“Oh, Maia… What have they done to you?” Seth’s voice was so soft, Maia barely heard it crack over the snapping of the torches along the walls. She stifled a sob and buried her face into the crook of Seth’s neck, her nose burrowing into the hollow of her throat. “You shouldn’t have come…” the Seer groaned, “you shouldn’t have come.” Seth’s fingers buried themselves into the tangled brown curls of Maia’s hair.

Tamsin swallowed the bile that threatened to rise and spill through her mouth at the sight of the broken, ailing shape of the woman clutched tightly in Maia’s arms. She remembered the days in which she’d known the Seer, images of a petite, lithe woman full of fire and vivacity and laughter flashed mercilessly before her eyes, a stark, cruel contrast to the trembling, dying, filthy being curled into Maia’s shaking arms. It broke Tamsin’s resolve and tightened her chest until her breath became shallow and unsteady. Finally, unable to contain herself, the typically apathetic Valkyrie collapsed to her knees beside their shuddering bodies. A hand came to tremulous rest on Seth’s bare, burning ankle.

“Seth,” she mumbled, pale green eyes brimming with long-denied emotion. The Seer’s eyes fluttered open again and steadied on Tamsin’s. A slow, painful smile spread on her broken, ashen lips as recognition flickered across her drawn face.

“Tamsin,” the Seer sighed in reply, a hand rising from Maia’s shuddering back to reach for her. Tamsin leaned in to the seeking touch, Seth’s fingers drifted across her features, full of sweet reminiscence, “the years since we last met look good on you.” Tamsin turned her face and pressed her lips tenderly to the palm of Seth’s hand in a caressing, affectionate kiss. Seth’s smile widened a fraction, her fingers hooked firmly around the nape of Tamsin’s neck, and the Seer, surrounded by familiar, dear faces, pulled the Valkyrie close to press their cheeks together, lips moving as she whispered softly, unintelligibly into her ear.

Lauren’s lips pursed into a perfectly surprised _O_. She expected this kind of tenderness from Maia. But never could she have ever anticipated the rawness being displayed by the sardonic, belligerent detective, the badass Valkyrie that never seemed to care. It sent a bitter pang through her chest to watch the three women, held together by the dying creature with whom she’d shared this cell for the past few hours, and she turned her face into Bo’s neck again, grateful and awash with pity and demoralized and terrified of what she knew would come next.

Harsh, pitiless laughter rang against the cold, hard stone walls, splintering the moment into an irreparable memory. Footsteps echoed down the hall, and the formidable shape of Jack O’Meara loomed in the half-shadows, jumping and leaping wildly in the struggling firelight.

“How sweet,” the Fomor commented in his smooth, rich voice. Mockery colored his words, hard-edged and ill-concealed. O’Meara gave a deep chuckle and stepped fully into the light. He was dressed in a dark gray suit, his flawless dark brown hair brushed neatly back, a dark red rose, no doubt clipped from his own garden, tucked neatly into the button hole on his lapel and a handsome deep purple silk tie pressed to his waist by a firm, muscled hand.

“But I don’t wish to be rude,” a cat-like grin crossed his lips, madness danced in his deeply familiar brown eyes, “for those of you who have not yet met me, my name is Jack O’Meara.” His rich voice lilted with the melodic tones of an Irish accent, “welcome to my home.”

He stepped forward, the heels of his expensive Italian leather shoes clicking sharply against the rough stone floor. His dark brown eyes met with Bo’s. “I see you’ve brought your friends along. I would have preferred a private reunion,” the cold glitter in his eyes contradicted this sentiment, “however, as we’ve already two guests as witness, what’s the harm in adding a few more?”

Bo, mesmerized by the strange likeness in those dark, mahogany eyes, took a step forward, her fingers slipping from Lauren’s waist. A wisp of awareness struggled to be made known, understanding just eluding her like a word at the tip of her tongue.

Dyson, for the most part forgotten and avoiding the bitter-sweet reunion scene between the woman he loved and the woman she loved, dashed between O’Meara and Bo, snarling and spitting rabidly at the Fomor that drew Bo’s attention like a moth to the flame. He crouched before Bo protectively, his face twisted into a furious scowl, his eyes breaking from soft blue to piercing yellow, and his nostrils flaring wildly. Bo was startled into a stop, blinking against the heavy, mind-numbing influence the Fomor seemed to hold over her and took in a sharp inhale of breath.

O’Meara only tutted him calmly, head dropping in feigned disappointment as he shook it from side to side.

“Wolf. Only you would be so presumptuous as to jump to my Isabeau’s aid.” O’Meara raised his head slightly, his amused gaze rising to meet Dyson’s out of the corners of his eyes. A smirk flitted across his thin lips, the dimple in his right cheek flashed in and out of existence.

Dyson hesitated, taken aback by the familiarity of that cheerful little dimple. A thunderous frown clouded Lauren’s face, and Bo was once more held in rapt attention to the tall, powerfully built man that mocked them from the other side of the bars.

“When will you learn that she doesn’t need a hero to save her? When will you see that her list of kills, even for her fledgling career, is enough to make a man proud?” The disconcerting grin grew on his features, the terrifying dimple deepening in the contours of his strong cheek. The air stilled around them as the horrific realization dawned upon them, and they drew a collective, time-stopping breath before he spoke again in a husky, gratified whisper: “enough to make a father proud!”

The pregnant silence that followed this revelation was shattered by Bo’s heated, outraged cry of denial.

“No. No!” Her dark brown eyes darted first over every familiar feature, every familiar gesture and look from the abhorrent man that proclaimed their familial tie, then back to the shocked stares of her companions around her. Dyson’s eyes, back to their faded blue, flickered from O’Meara to Bo, watching and comparing carefully, apprehension and distrust etched deep in the lines across his face.

“No!” she whispered again, softly, confidence lending strength to her quietly spoken words, as if saying so and believing it would make it true, “my father’s name is Sam Dennis. He’s a good man, an honorable man. He was not a monster.” Bo’s mouth pressed into a hard line, she turned her hard, burning gaze from Dyson, to Kenzi, to O’Meara again. Her face was pale with the indignity that pounded with her heart against her ribcage, her fists clenched at her sides, and her cheeks reddened with the anger that throbbed in her temples and pulled her eyebrows into a twitching frown.

“Oh no, Darling. I’m sure he was not. But regardless of who raised you, Isabeau, I am still your father. I am still the man whose seed you have spawned from. You and I, we are one and the same, my child,” he sounded so calm, so self-assured. His dark eyes, a replica to Bo’s in almost every aspect, glittered with malice and madness, but also with a strange, twisted affection for the woman standing across from him.

“No. I am not a monster!” Bo insisted, her nostrils flared in irritation at the arrogant smirk that curled in the corners of O’Meara’s mouth, her certainty faltered a little, and she finally turned to Lauren, faith falling into despair at the aggrieved expression painted across her lover’s face. Jack only grinned cruelly at her flailing dissent. “My father is Sam Dennis…” she asserted shakily, bottom lip trembling with the fear that twisted and writhed in her belly, and stared beseechingly at Lauren, searching desperately for support, for validation. Her last words came out a barely audible whisper, “… right?”

Tears slid down Lauren’s cheeks, she swallowed down her hurt and clenched her fists at her sides, hating herself for not being able to refute O’Meara’s claim.

“Don’t believe him, Bo,” Dyson’s throaty voice rang across the stone that surrounded them, his words sounded surer than Bo felt, “he’s just trying to rattle you!”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” Seth’s voice rasped from the darkness of her corner of the cell. All eyes swiveled to the trembling shadow that lay curled halfway in Maia’s lap. The Seer’s voice broke, her words tired, resigned, and sad. She fell into another, violent fit of coughs and spasms, and Maia struggled to contain the dying woman in her arms. Tamsin leaned in closer, her hand rubbed soothing circles into Seth’s back absently and her eyes were mistrustful and thoughtful as she stared between the Succubus whose control seemed to visibly be slipping and the mad, blood-thirsty Fomor that taunted them from the other side of the bars.

No one knew who Bo’s father really was. There was nothing to neither refute his claim, nor to confirm it. Tamsin didn’t trust the crazed glint in O’Meara’s eye, and now, she felt she couldn’t rely on the Succubus that unraveled before her either.

“Ah, but you don’t want to listen to the mad ramblings of an old, sick crone,” O’Meara cackled, “Tell her, Doctor, about the DNA samples, the paternity test.” His laughing eyes slunk toward Lauren, who tilted her head, eyes shut against the anguish that rocked her. She looked so frail, so beautifully broken, Bo reached a hand to flutter her fingers against Lauren’s skin, her dark brown eyes earnest and absolutely unquestioning.

“What paternity test?”

Lauren’s eyes fluttered open, her hands crept up to wrap Bo’s fingers in her own. They were freezing cold.

“He took a paternity test, Bo,” her voice cracked, strained against the weight of her confession, “here, in the dungeon.” Her gaze flicked momentarily to the corner beside the bars where Jack O’Meara had sat patiently, gleefully, while Lauren swabbed the inside of his mouth. He had left her all the equipment she’d needed, under Walter’s watchful eye, to check his DNA against the DNA in Bo’s blood sample, a blood sample she’d gathered herself in order to find a new serum for Bo’s hunger, one that he’d insisted she bring with them when he came to bring her under his custody.

Bo’s eyebrows knit together as the truth finally began to sink its cold, piercing claws deep into her. She couldn’t lie… the truth was so obvious, bare and brazen in the shuddering torchlight, its every movement, every look, every smile wholly redolent, seeping from the pores of the poisonous man that watched with eager eyes.

And how long had they all lied to Bo, to protect her? When had that ever turned out well? Lauren met Bo’s pleading stare, the corners of her lips pulled downward as if by invisible strings. Her chin trembled, and she took a deep breath, her heart fracturing in her chest for the destructive truth she knew she couldn’t avoid.  “I checked the results myself,” Lauren continued, her mouth dry, heart thumping convulsively, heavily, in her chest, “They were positive.”

Until that point, the Redcaps had held their silence, watching unobtrusively from the hallway as the events around them unfolded. Now, they howled in glee, almost drowning out O’Meara’s deafening, victorious laughter. Kenzi, milling silently, almost impatiently, in the flickering shadows close behind Bo, suddenly cried out in delight.

“Holy father of Batman, Bo-Bo! This really is a reunion!” her slender hands clapped to her mouth, her eyes glittered with a joy the real Kenzi would never have felt at such a revelation. The corners of her lips quivered above the line of her hands, stretched tight with the force of her excitement.

The Fomor raised his arm, brown eyes glowing with insane mirth, and shouted over the raucous din.

“You know the rules, gents! Dolph, open the door!”

And then, though it all happened at once and ended in moments, time seemed to stretch out indefinitely for Maia.

The door of their cell slid open with an earsplitting shriek. Like a tidal wave, the Redcaps surged through the gap, screaming and calling, fists and industrial box-cutters and crowbars raised above their heads. Dyson darted into the fray immediately, claws extended, ripping and tearing and gnashing his teeth at the whirlwind of chaos he’d thrown himself wholly into. Blood spurted and flew, splattering in staccato notes across the walls, ceiling and floor. Tamsin followed a beat later, wrenching herself out of the safe circle of Seth’s embrace, a dagger sprouting from the hem of her jacket-sleeve. Kenzi, whom Maia had finally, belatedly realized wasn’t really Kenzi at all, ducked and squirmed through the roiling mass of bodies to squeeze through the open gate and stumble breathlessly, elatedly to O’Meara’s side.

Maia watched in horror as the Wolf and the Valkyrie were drawn into the frenzy of battle. They spun and kicked and stabbed, their movements a crimson blur that made the grieving scrapper dizzy. She withdrew deeper into the shadows and pressed herself against the jagged stone wall, clutching Seth to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut and focusing on the tremulous, dying words the Seer whispered into her ear.

Lauren threw herself at Bo, winding her arms around the frantic, struggling woman, stilling the furious Succubus in her arms and pleading with her to listen, to understand that none of it mattered, that Bo was not a monster, that she was kind, and generous and selfless. The Succubus’ rage and grief throbbed in their ears, giving the violence that erupted around them a beating, breathing life of its own. Even through the bloodied haze of battle, Tamsin caught a glimpse of cold, lifeless blue flashing dissonantly in Bo’s eyes.

Lauren’s embrace and reassurances worked to calm Bo’s panic for a scant few seconds. The Succubus stilled, breathing ragged, for a moment, long enough for Duncan to rend himself from the writhing, twisting bodies around him and lunge for Lauren. Maia saw the same crazed excitement flash in the Redcap’s eyes that she had seen the night before, in her bathroom, and her heart leapt to her throat as Duncan’s filthy hand wrapped tightly around Lauren’s forearm. The knuckles in his fingers were white with the force of his grip. His spiked cast forced itself into the space between Lauren’s chest and Bo’s, and the pair tumbled to the hard, stony ground together, Lauren’s arms still flailing for Bo, her face a mask of surprised pain and terror.

Maia froze with her arms still wound tightly around Seth, unable to react to the desperate circumstances around her. Seth had finally fallen silent, totally spent and lying catatonic in her arms, the only thing keeping her heart yet beating the thunderous, rapid rhythm of Maia’s own heart pressed against her eardrum. Somewhere, lost in the shards of this nightmarish reality, Tamsin and Dyson had vanished beneath the wild, gyrating bodies of half a dozen Redcaps. Duncan scrambled to straddle Lauren, a terrible fervor lighting his face and stained teeth gleaming in the hellish firelight of the dungeon’s torches, her face half-hidden beneath strands of golden, glowing hair, one tawny eye wide with terror.

Bo erupted, the deafening scream she emitted set Maia’s teeth on edge and her ears ringing painfully. Bo threw her arms and chest back, her legs splayed solidly across the floor and her face raised to the sky somewhere above, hidden by the many layers of this twisted Narnian castle. Her skin pulsed an intense scarlet glow, and when her head lowered, Maia could see the endless, shocking icy blue of her eyes. Her lips parted, the muscles and tendons in her neck stretched and tightened, cording visibly in the crimson, throbbing glow of her skin.

The Fae that wasn’t Kenzi shook with drunken, excited laughter, thrilled by the wild chaos that stormed before her. Jack O’Meara stood patiently still, watching the scene unravel before him with a quiet vehemence. The consuming fires of zealous madness in his eyes drank in the sight of his daughter’s transformation greedily. He grinned, head lowered, and watched through thick, dark eyelashes, his hands in his pockets and his terrible, hateful dimple flickering fitfully in his cheek.

Incandescent blue light rent itself violently from the mouths of Bo’s enemies. The Redcaps, Duncan, Dolph, and even the Fae that had posed as Kenzi, jerked and shuddered, their eyes suddenly vacant and their lips parting as their Chi was drained. The softly glowing, life-giving sapphire energy spiraled up, and, like a river flowing backwards, joined together in a confluence above Bo’s now again upturned face, then descended and disappeared into the Succubus’ waiting mouth. Russet curls flipped and played around her pale face with an otherworldly breeze that blew only for her.

The drained Fae sank slowly to their knees, then slumped against the walls and each other, and eventually, to the floor. Duncan’s raised fist fell to his side, and he teetered on his knees before collapsing in a lifeless, harmless heap over Lauren.

Tamsin and Dyson shook themselves free of the limp bodies that draped over them, staring in shocked, dismal silence at the graveyard they found themselves in. Maia gaped openmouthed at Bo, never having seen such a display before in her life. Tremors of fear ran up and down her spine, her breath caught in her throat as she watched Lauren scramble out from under Duncan’s dead body, disgust and terror twisting her face and her shoulders shaking with the force of her repulsion.

O’Meara gave a quiet chuckle that resonated convulsively within the heaving chests of the living, then shook his shoe free of the ebony-haired creature that lay obliviously across it. The Fae that had stolen Kenzi’s identity rolled slightly, her face emerging from the shadows with a look of erotic pleasure stretched across her dead features, and little, sharp, pointed teeth bared in a final climactic grin.

Maia shuddered, her insides liquefied in terror, her thoughts whirling like a dervish. O’Meara, free of his burden, ambled close to the bars of the cell, his footsteps light and expression pleased.

“My daughter…” he whispered, almost worshipful, “you are more powerful than I can have imagined.” Slowly, he raised a hand and stretched it, supplicating, through the bars at the Succubus that still throbbed with power and passion. “Together, we will bridle the masses and ride unto glory. There will be no Dark, and no Light.” Bo turned her face ponderously toward her father, her eyes a steady, deep blue, as she considered the portentous, prophetic words he uttered, “There will be only us,” O’Meara’s deep, gravelly voice was soft, ardent, just shy of beseeching. His dark, brown eyes gazed adoringly at the woman he had brought into the world.

A slow, languorous smile spread across Bo’s features, radiating with power and heat, and she raised her arm in response, their fingertips close enough to just brush together. Drawing a deep, happy breath, O’Meara took a final step in Bo’s direction, and their hands clasped together tightly.

“There will be only us,” Bo repeated, her voice folding in on itself over and over. Then, with a curious tilt of her head, Bo turned her face to gaze unsympathetically at her companions. The expression in Bo was as alien to them as they seemed to be to her. Her voice, when she addressed them, was indifferent and commanding. “Go.”

“Bo!” Dyson cried out, stumbling over the bodies of the dead Redcaps that littered the floor around him, arms outstretched to reach for the woman he loved, his life-mate, the woman he’d sworn to protect.

“No! Dyson!” Tamsin threw out her hand and pulled the frantic Wolf back, her expression hard and angry. “We have to go, now!” Dyson rocked on his feet for a moment, thrown off balance by both the limbs and torsos strewn between his feet and the surprising strength of the blonde that dragged him backward. Tamsin grabbed his powerful, bloodied shoulders in her hands, her dagger lost and forgotten now, and shoved the Shifter to the gate that yawned open beside her. He tumbled breathlessly over, his feet trampling sickeningly over arms and legs on his way, and crashed ungracefully into the bars of the cell opposite theirs.

Lauren scrambled across the stony floor to Maia, and the pair struggled to lift Seth’s limp, dying body. Maia’s arms, chest and shoulders screamed in protest, and Lauren grunted with the effort, only to be torn backward by the collar of her shirt and tossed effortlessly into the wall behind her. The doctor struck the wall with a dull, thudding crack, and her head lolled around her shoulders unconsciously. Bo towered over Maia, who screamed for Lauren and leapt up to help her, but was stopped by a careless, sizzling touch from the overpowered Succubus.

“Mine.”

Maia struggled against the terrific azure gaze that bored breathtakingly into her. She stifled a sob, too afraid for herself to oppose, too afraid for Lauren to obey, and torn into complete inaction.

“Maia!” Tamsin barked for the human’s attention, wading through the shin-deep pile of corpses to reach the petrified woman who still labored to carry the fading Seer. Maia tore her stare from Bo’s forceful blue gaze to spare a glance at Lauren, who groaned and raised faltering hands to her injured head. Her arms wrapped more tightly, more staunchly around Seth’s frail shoulders, and she pulled, whimpering inaudibly at the horrible strain to drag Seth into a fireman’s carry. Her floundering heart struggled to writhe its way out of her throat. Pain seared across her shoulders and stabbed through her chest with her weakening efforts.

And then the floor fell away beneath her, and it was all she could manage to clutch the Seer tightly to her chest. Tamsin had gathered them both into her strong, wiry arms and carried them out of the cell, picking her way carefully over the unmoving casualties strewn across the rough flagstones below.

Bo watched with steely blue eyes as they grouped in the hallway, the red, stuttering torchlight leaping across their exhausted, defeated faces. Lauren finally managed to regain consciousness long enough to raise dazed eyes to the retreating backs of her friends. Her unfocused gaze met Maia’s for a fleeting instant over Tamsin’s straining shoulders and Maia swore to herself that they’d be back for the woman that had risked her standing in the Light Fae community to nurse a broken, lost girl back to life. She only hoped Lauren could see it in the hard shine of her tear-filled eyes and the determined edge of her tight-lipped grimace. A small, faltering smile flitted across Lauren’s pale lips, humorless, but hopeful, before the rough edges of the prison wall broke their stare. Then, they edged around Jack O’Meara and the lifeless body of the Fae that had pretended to be Kenzi. O’Meara’s crazed, victorious laughter bounced across the walls and chased them through the hellish mansion and out to Tamsin’s waiting truck.


	11. Chapter 11

Just as time had slowed down impossibly for Maia in the torturous, terrifying dungeon of Jack O’Meara’s mansion, time sped up again in the back of Tamsin’s black, beat-up truck.

Some time while they had been battling for their lives in the dank stone halls below ground, a torrential downpour had started. It drenched them as they fled O’Meara’s house of terrors, pelted them with heavy, icy drops as they raced to the car and tore the doors open. Tamsin cranked up the heat after starting the engine, gravel scattered beneath the heavy treads of her tires as they peeled out of the driveway, steam rose from their hot skin and formed a film of blood-tinted perspiration on the windows and windshield of the car.

Not long after the truck trundled back onto the highway and their heartbeats had settled somewhat, Seth died in the arms of the woman that had loved her enough to risk her life to bring her home. Maia cried quietly, clutching the Seer’s dead body close. She didn’t feel the hot tears slide down her cheeks, only saw them as they dripped onto the filthy skin of the woman she held, leaving clean, pale tracks across the blood, dirt and pus that had cracked and dried. Tamsin and Dyson were both too concerned with navigating the slick streets and worrying about their own physical injuries to hear her. And by the time they slowed to a stop in the alleyway that the Dal’s entrance opened to, she was done.

Wordlessly, they piled out of the truck. Dyson led the way, pulling the door open so that Tamsin and Maia could carry Seth’s body inside. The rain pounded a steady, icy beat into their skin. Trick’s pale face bobbed at the threshold, his features anxious and impatient, and waited while Tamsin squeezed through the doorframe, holding Seth’s legs in her arms. Maia followed after, Seth’s shoulders clutched to her own and the Seer’s head lolling lifelessly on Maia’s shoulder. Dyson edged in last, scrubbing his face tiredly as he allowed the door to slide closed.

“Where’s Bo?” Trick demanded, his brown eyes darting from Dyson to the door that didn’t turn on its hinges to admit the rest of the group that had set out earlier that day.

Dyson didn’t respond, only hung his head, his eyebrows knit tightly together, and exhaled heavily. Anger and dread flashed across the Blood King’s face, and he tore the door to the Dal open again and thrust his head out, searching the darkness for any sign of his granddaughter, of Lauren, of Kenzi.

After a long minute, Trick finally pulled his head back in and let the door slam shut once again. He glared at Dyson, his nostrils flaring and his cheeks reddening at the betrayal that had left him speechless with fury. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, his graying hair stuck matted to his forehead and neck, where the rain had plastered it to his skin, and finally, he hissed at the Wolf that stood shamefacedly before him.

“Why isn’t she with you, Dyson?! I told you to bring her home!” his voice rose to a shout, and Dyson cringed against the waves of seething anger and condemnation that emanated from him. Though Dyson was the much taller man of the two, he seemed to shrink in stature before the imposing figure of the Blood King and his furious, wilting gaze.

“She turned Dark, Trick,” Maia’s exhausted voice came from deeper within the Dal. She and Tamsin had settled Seth onto a couch, they both dripped all over the scuffed wooden floors and shivered in the cold air. The bedraggled human spoke matter of factly, and met Trick’s intense brown eyes without trepidation. Any sense of intimidation she ought to have felt under the Blood King’s terrifying glare had been used up not more than an hour ago, before Seth died, and their attempt to rescue her and Lauren had failed so miserably. Carefully, she unraveled her leather jacket from where she’d tied it around her cast and checked it for damp spots. With Lauren still trapped in Jack O’Meara’s dungeon, Maia didn’t know who else might bother to recast her badly broken arm and wrist for her if this cast were damaged.

“Excuse me?” Trick turned away from Dyson and took long, aggressive strides toward the disheveled human leaning against the couch’s arm. Tamsin stepped between them, sending the barkeep a warning glare, and Trick paused for a moment, closed his eyes, and struggled to gather his composure around him like a blanket.

“We could use some fresh towels, Trick. Somehow, I don’t think a pool in everyone’s favorite way-station would go over well, and I think we’d both like to dry off,” Tamsin spoke drily, still wary of the man that clenched his jaw and whistled sharply through his teeth at them. Trick gave a sharp nod, finally managing to pick up the last shreds of his patience and self-possession, then turned and stalked to the partially hidden door that led down to his lair.

Dyson raised his face and gave both Tamsin and Maia calculating looks.

“I’ll go pick up some dry clothes for us,” he offered. Tamsin pulled her car keys out of her pocket and chucked them at the brooding Wolf, who caught them dexterously.

“Pick something up for Maia, too, from my place. She’s about my size,” the Valkyrie turned to assess the truth of her statement, sizing the exhausted girl up with her faded green eyes. Dyson didn’t reply, only shoved the door open again, squared his shoulders, and pushed himself on into the pouring rain. He disappeared into the dark, spitting outdoors almost instantly in a haze of fading light and color.

Maia sighed, her eyes still swollen and red from the tears she’d shed, and tugged at Seth’s limp shoulders to settle herself on the couch with the Seer’s head cradled carefully into her lap. Absently, she brushed the dripping silver locks out of Seth’s closed eyes and across her forehead, a motion meant, no doubt, to be more soothing to the human than to the dead, unresponsive Fae.

Tamsin took this moment of rare privacy to evaluate herself, and her feelings toward the stubborn woman grieving before her. Like most Fae, especially those aligned with the Dark like herself, Tamsin regarded humans as little more than domesticated animals, like sheep, only waiting patiently to be used and slaughtered for food. It was rare that, and had been decades since, she’d regarded one as anything more. For centuries, humans had been a weak race, pathetic and mewling. Only seldom had a warrior or a soldier proven himself worthy of the notice of the Valkyries. True warriors were hard to come by, especially as the human race degenerated into wretched, pitiful creatures, too entirely dependent upon their own technologies to navigate the world around them in their absence.

But through all of the hardships delivered to her in such a short period of time, Maia had endured, without complaint. She’d battled against her own fear, her own innate weakness, with an admirable sense of dedication, to achieve her worthy goals. She’d done nothing less than shoulder her burdens silently and push onward from the moment Tamsin had met her, and a respect for the unrelenting human had developed within the Valkyrie.

Her intimate ties with Tamsin’s past with Seth, and her compassionate perception had also given way to a sense of closeness, to a connection that Tamsin was still struggling to understand and put words to, before the door to Trick’s home flew open and the barkeep emerged from its dim interior with towels piled in his hands. Vex followed closely after, scowling at the bundle of towels in his own arms.

“There’s a sight I never thought I’d see, the infamous Mesmer playing housewife,” Tamsin grinned at Vex, accepting the soft, dry towels he tossed in her direction. The Mesmer curled his lip in distaste and annoyance at her and stuffed his hands deep into his tight pockets.

“Well don’t let me subject you to it any longer than I must,” he retorted. A wicked smile flashed across his lips, dark eyes glinting with dark humor, “I hear you lost the Succu-lette.”

Trick and Tamsin both threw him dirty looks, but otherwise ignored him. Tamsin only rubbed the back of her neck and her shoulders with the towel, it came back stained with blood from the injury she’d suffered from the pounding steel-clad fist that had battered the tender flesh behind her ear.

Trick, feeling a little remorseful for his outburst at Maia earlier, unraveled the towel in his own arms and moved to drape it across Maia’s shoulders. The human flinched from the unexpected contact, then turned to offer up a half-smile in apology to the barkeep.

Divested of his offering of good will, Trick turned his solemn gaze on Tamsin, who still scrubbed herself with her towel in an effort to get as dry as possible.

“I need you to tell me everything that happened,” he maneuvered himself behind the bar and pulled out a pair of shot glasses, “and don’t leave anything out.” A bottle of whiskey appeared in his hands, and he began pouring, two shots for the ladies to start with, to warm their insides and give them some small strength.

Tamsin moved to the bar, brows furrowing into a frown as she considered how to begin. Maia carefully rearranged Seth’s head and shoulders back onto the couch, brushed her towel over the legs of her jeans, and followed. Her chucks squelched against the floor as she walked, and she settled herself precariously on the stool next to the Valkyrie’s.

Trick pulled out a set of tumblers and began to fill them as well, a round for them all to help ease the tension and promote communication, and after downing her shot of the burning amber liquid, Tamsin began.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Even down here, deep in the mansion’s darkest bowels, Isabeau could hear the steady, driving beat of the rain. She closed her eyes and lifted her chin, focused on the unforgiving drumming of the storm against the earth, against the wood and brick walls of the building, against the glass of its windows. Thunder growled, and if she listened closely enough, she could even hear the crack of lightning, could hear it sizzle where it struck the earth and singed it.

Slowly, she lowered her face. Her vibrant blue gaze flitted across the room, over the hard, rough stone floors that were pitted and stained with the blood of the recent skirmish, over the thick iron bars that walled the narrow passageway, over the bodies of the Redcaps, of Dolph, and of the Kitsune whose Chi she had drained and who lay in a pile of arms and legs against the furthest wall of her father’s dungeon.

Walter had prepared this for her. He had separated the bodies of those dead by the Wolf and Valkyrie’s hands and those dead by her own, had left the bloody and the mutilated in the cell with the human who still struggled to regain full consciousness and piled the rest outside.

Lauren shifted beneath the shadows, still slumped against the wall Isabeau had thrown her against. The slight sounds of her movement carried in an echo to the Succubus. With a gasp and a groan, the human stirred, waking finally and clutching her injured head between dirtied hands.

Best to do this quickly then. Isabeau regarded the slender, half-concealed figure that lay sprawled against the wall. The weak, pathetic creature had a hold on her, had power over her, and while Isabeau knew why, knowing and understanding were two totally separate things. The power that the human held over her was dangerous, and though Isabeau felt the unfathomable pull to stand and watch her, to study her movements, her expressions, her body, she knew that it would be her undoing. She had to work quickly.

Isabeau’s effervescent azure eyes skipped over the mangled bodies that crowded the human’s cage and came to rest over the intertwined limbs of those she’d come to awaken. She could pick out the powerful musculature that defined Dolph’s arms, the petite, almost fragile outline of the Kitsune her father called Inari, and the more angular, gawky shape of the leader of the Redcaps that stuck out at odd angles and wound awkwardly around them both. They’d been heaped at the top, and they were the three Isabeau was most interested in.

Bless Walter and his considerate heart.

A thin smile played at the edges of Isabeau’s lips. She stepped closer to them, careful to make little noise over the resonant stones beneath her booted feet, lest she alert the human to her presence.

“Bo,” the dry whisper gave the Succubus pause, hesitance flickered across her features for an instant before resolution set in, and Isabeau knelt at the foot of the pile of the dead.

“Please,” this time, Isabeau ignored the earnest murmur and focused on the erotic grins that stretched lifelessly across the faces of the three she’d come to revive. With delicate fingers and deceptive strength, the Succubus pulled them free of the mound upon which they rested and dragged them halfway across the floor.

She had to stiffen her shoulders against the pleading, insistent voice that slowly regained strength and focus in the cell beside her. Gently, she pulled the Redcap, the Bear, and the Kitsune apart from each other, and with her fingertips caressing their cold skin, parted her lips slowly in order to release the energy she had stolen from them.

Warm, violet light curled like smoke before her eyes, then swarmed around the faces of the bodies lying before her. The distinctive flavors of each intermingled in her mouth as they escaped: the Bear’s wild, coppery tang, the salty, fishy bite of the Redcap’s cold, pungent vitality, and the surprisingly sweet flavor of ripe blackberries that she had tasted in Inari’s Chi not more than an hour ago.

The sound of Lauren’s gathering cries fell away into the cracks between the stone bricks of the dungeon, overcome by the more immediate sensations of three hearts fluttering, then beating in cadence with the life-giving fourth. The heady thrill of blood stirring, then pumping through parched veins sent a sweet thrum across Isabeau’s skin. The eerie, erogenous grins that cracked their faces relaxed, their expressions smoothing from the frozen smiles of the dead to the momentarily confused of the newly awakened.

The sensuously coiling ribbons of Chi that flowed slowly, amorously from Isabeau’s mouth into their own thinned, then faded. Her Thralls blinked away their confusion, then stretched and gathered themselves, their expressions falling into the soft, sweet lines of shared adoration as they gazed at the blue-eyed beauty to whom they owed their lives, and their hearts. Dolph and Duncan were the first to rise, and Isabeau rose with them, staring at them in pleased satisfaction. In her attempt to stand, Inari stumbled, her legs still weak at the knees and her body still trembling with what felt, to her, like post-coital bliss. Isabeau caught her arm easily, and the Kitsune pulled herself up.

Out of her three new Thralls, she was the most interesting to watch. The raven hair she’d worn into death fell away, and thick ginger curls tumbled around her shoulders in their place. Her skin rippled as she fell nearly an inch in height and her delicate bones resettled. Freckles twinkled like stars as they scattered across her face, her shoulders and her chest. A deep green, almost as vibrant as Isabeau’s blue, bled into her desaturated gray eyes. The image of Kenzi seemed to peel away, and in its place was the delicate shape of a finely boned, slender, green-eyed, red-headed girl. A wicked, impish grin bubbled across her features, and Inari leaned up onto her tiptoes to brush an adoring kiss to Isabeau’s cheek.

“My Bo-Bo,” she murmured, her hushed voice reverent and loving.

A scowl marred Isabeau’s features. Her free arm blurred and the sharp crack of the slap she dealt her errant Thrall echoed unforgivingly in the cold, flickering torchlight of the prison.

“My name is Isabeau,” the Succubus hissed. Inari gave a choked cry of pain, her hand rose to massage her cheek, her skin hot and reddening already with the harsh contact.

Then, with a sympathetic sigh, Isabeau covered Inari’s hand with her own, bunching the fingers splayed over the slap mark and pulling them down to her side. Tears welled in Inari’s eyes, and Isabeau pressed a soothing kiss to the Kitsune’s forehead.

“Bo, please!” Lauren’s cry finally shattered Isabeau’s focus, and the Succubus spun to snarl at the human that crept along the floor of her cell, her head still held in one hand and a grimace of pain twisting her face. The sudden display of animosity froze the human doctor in her tracks, and Lauren stared up at the face of her lover, almost unrecognizable behind the mask of cruelty she wore now. A mangled sob escaped Lauren’s lips as the Succubus and her Thralls turned their backs on her and strode out of the dungeon, their dissimilar footfalls perfectly in sync with one another’s and totally indifferent to the concussed woman that begged and pleaded for the woman she called ‘Bo’.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Maia allowed Tamsin to tell most of the story, only cutting in every so often to clarify a point, or to offer her own input. Having not been one of the participants in the bloody skirmish, she’d been able to witness Bo’s change, the way the super-Succubus in her had burst out and inhaled the Chi from multiple bodies at once. She held very little back, only the things that Seth had whispered in her ear during the battle, the scattered, panicked words Lauren had rasped to her before Bo had thrown her into the wall. It was all incredibly pivotal to the resolution they were all looking for, but she didn’t want to repeat herself, so she decided instead to wait until Dyson returned.

The Wolf rejoined them at the end of Tamsin’s unembellished retelling. The Valkyrie accepted the bundle of clothes he offered them wordlessly, and the pair of them were sent down to Trick’s lair to change, before any more discussion continued.

Dull pain flared across Maia’s shoulder blades as she struggled to pull on a spotless white tank top. Though still painful, her injuries were healing, and the agony that had seared through her earlier in the morning was blunted, in spite of, or perhaps even because of, the incredible amounts of physical strain Maia put herself through. Her muscles felt weak, almost like jelly, but were warm with use. She felt that the swelling in her black eye might have also gone down. Her cast caught in the fabric of her shirt, and she fumbled clumsily to pull it through the armhole. Maia had been grateful to discover that it hadn’t even gotten damp, shielded as it was first by Seth’s own slender body doubled over it and then later by the coat she’d wrapped around it.

“There’s something you’re not telling us,” Tamsin commented from behind her. She wore a guarded, almost suspicious expression on her face, as well as a dry pair of form-fitting jeans and a tight cotton blouse, whose color seemed a confused mix of tan and beige. She tugged on a bright blue jacket while she spoke, her faded green eyes watching Maia’s pained movements scrutinizingly.

The human shrugged in response, stifling a grimace at the dull ache that spread across her shoulders. As much as she’d relished the distracting pain earlier that day, she prayed for the strength of body she would need in order to be of any use in bringing Bo, Lauren and Kenzi back safely.

“I’ll tell you all everything. Let’s just get back upstairs, okay?” the curly-haired brunette moved to push past Tamsin, but found herself blocked by an arm offering her a bright green jacket. Maia sighed tiredly and nodded, and allowed the Valkyrie to help her into it. Goose flesh had risen along Maia’s cold arms, and the added layer was a welcome one. Then she led the way up the stairs to the Dal and Trick’s, Dyson’s and Vex’s waiting ears.

The door that opened from Trick’s home to the pub was wide open. But Maia found upon reaching the landing that Trick stood solidly in her way, blocking the threshold with his stocky body, his back to her. Maia peered over his shoulder and caught her breath in her throat at the sight of the Morrigan’s curvy, sensual figure standing with her hips tilted and her arms across her chest and staring intently, grimly, at Trick.

Evony smiled, teeth flashing behind red-painted lips in a predatory grin, at the sight of Maia’s pale face materializing from the dimness of the staircase.

“Speak of the devil,” her voice was silky smooth. Fear tracked its cold finger down Maia’s spine, though she willed her expression impassive.

“And the devil will come,” Tamsin finished for her, pushing Maia aside gently in order to step between the Morrigan and her prey.

“Detective Tamsin,” Evony’s attention shifted to the Valkyrie nudging Trick carefully out of the way of the doorframe. The barkeep moved aside, his expression troubled, and his hands falling to his sides. Tamsin stepped up to stand a few feet from the leader of the Dark Fae, pale green eyes glittering with belligerence and a cocky smile on her lips.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Evony continued, “but I do recall being quite explicit this afternoon when I told you this case was off-limits?” though the brunette’s tone was playful, Maia could detect an underlying sharp edge of anger. If Tamsin heard it at all, it didn’t seem to bother her.

“Oh, that’s right. Whoops. My bad,” Tamsin spoke flippantly, her grin cheeky as she regarded the beautiful, dangerous woman standing in front of her.

The Morrigan didn’t respond to Tamsin’s attitude, only stared at the blonde calculatingly. After a long, quiet moment, Evony turned her gaze from the Valkyrie she hardly regarded as worth her notice to the curly-haired human standing stiffly beside the door she’d appeared from, hugging her arms and watching the exchange with suspicious interest. The predatory smile she’d worn only minutes ago at Maia’s entrance returned to her lips, slowly, lazily. The Morrigan sauntered gracefully to her, eyeing her up and down like a predator stalking her prey.

Maia didn’t flinch under the intense, aggressive stare, only squared her shoulders and pushed herself to stand straighter, and met the Morrigan’s seductive stare with a defiant one of her own.

“So this is the Seer’s pet?” Evony drawled, raising a hand to trace a long, elegant finger along Maia’s bruised cheek. A dull pain throbbed under the tender touch, but Maia refused to flinch, to show any sign of weakness. “Doesn’t look like much, does she?” the Morrigan leaned in close, Maia could feel Evony’s cheek brush against her own, her warm, moist breath caressing the soft skin just below her earlobe, “oh… but the talent…” Evony purred, her voice a low, aroused groan. Her hands wound around Maia’s waist, probing and hungry, “you would make a delicious snack…”

Maia’s breath caught in her throat again, her lungs squeezed with senseless fear, and she took the opportunity to shut her eyes tightly and collect her strength to resist it, to shut it out. Velvety lips, dampened by a teasing tongue, drifted along her neck, Maia’s hackles rose at the sensation of slow, deliberate breaths flaring across her skin. Strong hands coiled under her jacket, climbing up Maia’s waist and back quickly, stealthily, the palms flat and pressing firmly against the thin material of her borrowed top. Evony’s fingers ran over the contours of her ribs, her spine, and her shoulder blades. All that separated their bodies from pressing flush together were the arms Maia kept crossed tightly over her chest. The sharp, sweet scent of the Morrigan’s perfume curled and wafted around the terrified girl, and she forced herself to breathe and open her eyes again as the Morrigan slowly pulled back, an insatiably hungry light glittering in her dark brown eyes.

“She’s mine!”

Tamsin’s voice cut through the tension, shattering the cold, crystalline moment and making the Morrigan’s hands around Maia’s body tighten, and her whole body to stiffen. Evony spun, not releasing Maia from her firm, possessive grip, and glared haughtily at the Valkyrie that dared to deny her what she wanted.

“Excuse me?”

A nasty smile curled at the corner of Tamsin’s lips, and glittered cold and hard in her darkening eyes.

“I said: She’s mine,” the Valkyrie repeated. Evony’s lips pulled into a snarl, white teeth gleaming in the dim light of the bar. “Seth passed her on to me, before she died,” Tamsin continued, triumph clear in her strong voice, “so I suggest you take your hands off my pet, Lady Morrigan,” she spoke with cold civility, the hard edge of victory bare and unconcealed in her tone. It gave the subversive Valkyrie an immense sense of pleasure to deny her superior the things she wanted.

The Morrigan’s hands fell away from Maia, and she turned to face Tamsin fully, angry fire lighting her insidious brown eyes. Evony opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a loud, heavy bang and the sound of her name being shouted furiously from across the room.

“Evony! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” the Ash strode across the floor of the Dal, his dark face taut with the rage he didn’t bother to suppress in his voice, “how dare you kidnap a ward of the Ash?!”

Trick and Maia both heaved heavy, relieved sighs, though no doubt for different reasons. The Morrigan’s attention, effectively subverted to the enraged Ash that bore down on her, gave Maia the opportunity to move close to Tamsin, now a source of both support and safety. Trick paced from his spot beside the bar to the middle of the floor, where the leader of the Light Fae stopped, eyes blazing and lips pressed into a hard, thin line. Dyson stood behind him, cold blue eyes fixed on the Morrigan who smiled indulgently at her political equal.

Evony tutted at him, watched him stiffen in his casual, stylish suit, and cocked her hips to the side, one arm raised to rest on her hip, the other hanging loosely beside her.

“I never did such a thing,” her voice was teasing, taunting. Evony tilted her head down and watched the Ash shake with the force of his anger through heavy eyelashes. She loved to see her rival so completely undone by anger and his own inability to maintain control over his belongings. “I cannot speak, however, for Jack O’Meara,” she relented after a moment, the bemused smile fading rapidly from her lips, “he has renounced his fealty to the Dark. He is no longer one of mine.” 

A pair of legs that had gone unnoticed swung off the edge of the pool table, and Vex sat up, his eyes, barely visible behind an overhang of thick black hair, settled like everyone else’s on the Morrigan.

“And you’re just going to let him get away with that?” a sneer pulled at the gothic Englishman’s lips, “you’re going soft, Evony. I didn’t think you tolerated mutiny.”

Evony snarled and spun to face Vex, another of her fold that had been lost and a matter of great agitation to the woman that was always, always, in control of her underlings. Her thick, dark tresses flew in a wavy bundle around her face and neck and crashed against her shoulders, gleaming in the dim light.

“I don’t!” she snapped. Anger colored her cheeks and flushed along her neck up to her ears before she mastered the emotion and turned back to the Ash, “but he’s not the only one that’s deviated,” Ruthless triumph sent another, cold smile to the curve of her plush red lips, “I hear the Succu-bitch has turned coat and has decided to help him.”

“Bo didn’t just turn Dark,” Maia’s voice drifted through the tight, tense air, sounding fragile and timorous. The curly-haired human steeled herself as the eyes of six Fae swiveled around to settle on her. She took in a deep breath and strode to the middle of the floor, supplanting the Blood King from his space. Her steps grew more confident, more determined, as she moved, and when she finally stopped and looked around at the room, considering how to begin, she looked almost fierce and fearless.

A powerful sense of pride for the beaten woman took Tamsin wholly by surprise.

“Bo’s devolving. She’s going through her Dawning. And Jack O’Meara knew it, and took full advantage of it.”

Chaos erupted around Maia, bringing a subtle flinch to her features, though she held her ground tenaciously. She raised her palms in a futile attempt to calm the roiling emotions that raged around her. Conflicted, clashing exclamations and questions swirled in the air, despite her attempts to quiet them.

“How could you possibly know about the Dawning?” this question, uttered by the Blood King, had been repeated by each of the Fae surrounding Maia at least once during the outburst of confusion. The room slowly quieted down again, and Maia drew in a deep breath and looked the old man squarely in the eye.

“Seth told me. Before she died.”

“But it’s far too soon. Two hundred years too soon,” Trick’s gaze on Maia was intense, searching. His nostrils flared. Bo had been hungrier than usual lately, had been behaving strangely ever since the battle with the Garuda. It was odd that the injections she’d been using with no issues for two years to curb her hunger suddenly stopped working. Hadn’t he only just asked Lauren to perform tests on Bo? Hadn’t Dyson come to him less than a week ago with his worries, his concerns that Bo might be killing again?

“I don’t know about that,” Maia confessed, a veil of uncertainty clouding her features for just a moment, “I just know what Seth told me. And I know what Lauren told me too, before…” she faltered, tearing her eyes from Trick’s for an instant as regret and anxiety gnawed at her. She glanced briefly at Seth’s lifeless form, lying undisturbed on the couch where they’d lain her, fighting the tears that threatened to gather in her eyes. But she bit her lip, teeth worrying at the soft, bruised flesh, and clenched her fists, and forced herself to return Trick’s intent stare with a determined, hardened gaze of her own.

“Lauren had the results you asked her for. It didn’t make any sense to me, but she said…” Maia’s dark eyes fluttered shut as she fought to recollect the scattered shards of her memory of that moment, “she said that Bo’s cells appeared to be dying, and were being replaced by something else.” Maia spoke slowly, deliberately, a frown furrowing her brow as she struggled with the faded knowledge, “also, that it’s something that’s been happening _in_ Bo, not _to_ her. She has her results in a briefcase she left at her apartment,” Maia spun to look at Dyson, “also, a cocktail she was in the middle of developing for Bo. She said it might help.”

Dyson nodded, his expression grim and focused and his lips drawn into a thin, hard line. He flashed Tamsin’s car keys at her, a silent request for permission to use them, and received an accepting nod in response.

“I’ll go get it then,” the Wolf’s voice was low and gruff, he gave the room a last, brooding sweep, then turned and pulled open the door. The heavy, pelting rain had slowed into a steady drizzle, and the Shifter bowed his head against it as he disappeared once again into the dark, monochromatic outdoors.

Maia exhaled slowly. There was one more thing they needed to do as well, though she wasn’t certain any of the Fae here would consider rescuing a human as a priority. But Maia was certain it would help, and she was determined that, regardless of the plan they put into motion to bring Bo home and stop Jack O’Meara from starting a war, Kenzi would come home safely. It was her fault Kenzi was in trouble, and Maia needed to make that right.

The door shut with a muffled groan and bang behind Dyson. Maia clenched her teeth and turned back to face the Fae around her, unsure of whose gaze she needed to meet, to make her point.

“There’s something else,” she started, annoyed to find her voice faltering, betraying her.

“Kenzi.”

Maia’s eyes widened in surprise at the Ash who spoke her thoughts, who stared at her intently. What did the Ash care about a simple human? A human that wasn’t even his? She gave him a tight lipped smile in response and nodded, “we need to find her.”

“We’ll need Cassie,” Vex hopped off the pool table, his expression grim, and sauntered over to the Morrigan, who rolled her eyes in response to him. “She’s an Oracle,” he explained, noting the questioning glances he received from Trick, Maia and the Ash.

“Oh, who cares about one annoying little human?” exasperation drawled through Evony’s tone, and the Morrigan rolled her eyes at the burning looks she received from those around her, answering her question silently, but pointedly.

“Every advantage we can use against O’Meara, to bring Bo back to herself, is one worth taking,” Trick started, watching Evony carefully while Vex pulled out his phone and started dialing in a number.

“Bo only went super-Succubus when the fighting started,” Maia frowned, looking between Trick and Evony and speaking softly while she worked through her thoughts out loud, “more specifically, when Duncan attacked Lauren.” Maia’s expression turned inward as she recalled those terrifying moments in O’Meara’s basement. The violent flashes of bloody fervor that gleamed in Duncan’s eyes, the panic that had risen in Lauren’s as the Redcap towered over her prone body, spiked cast poised to come crashing fatally down on her. She shuddered and swallowed down her own horror. She knew the bitter helplessness Lauren must have felt, trapped beneath Duncan’s powerful weight, and the self-disgust that came with it, and those sensations washed over Maia at the cutting revelation.

Maia forced herself to look Evony in the eye, a hard, determined edge to her mouth and her fists reflexively clenched at her sides, “I think she turned because someone she loves was in danger.”

“And you think that maybe proving to her that Lauren and Kenzi are safe will help to turn her back?” Evony’s voice was skeptical, but she accepted the phone Vex offered to her.

“It’s worth a try, love,” Vex replied.

The Morrigan sighed in defeat and put the phone to her ear. If saving the human would turn the tide against Jack O’Meara, then she supposed she’d best call the Oracle’s uncle and have her sent over.

 

With the room’s attention finally scattering, Maia crept away to Tamsin’s side. It had not escaped her attention that the Valkyrie that claimed her had been watching her with keen interest, and that a look of intense scrutiny examined her still, even as she paused in front of her. Tamsin’s lips were pursed into a thin line, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her whole body stiff. She wasn’t looking at Maia, but through her, into her. Maia raised a hand to her cheek and brushed her fingers against Tamsin’s pale skin lightly, startling the Valkyrie, deep in thought, back into the present moment.

“Did Seth really ask you to claim me?” the question had been burning on Maia’s lips since Tamsin had declared the human as hers, though Maia wasn’t sure how it mattered. She just wanted to know. The nature of their relationship to each other was confusing, tentative, and Maia thought the answer to this question might shed some light on it.

Tamsin licked her lips thoughtfully, her faded green eyes searching and introspective, and brushed Maia’s hand away.

“Does it matter?” without realizing it, the Valkyrie gave voice to Maia’s own thoughts. Then she sighed and looked down at her feet. Her shoulders loosened, and her body seemed to relax a little. When she looked back up at Maia, the human could see that it really didn’t. “Yes. She did.” 


	12. Chapter 12

Isabeau slunk past Dolph, her fingers hovering tantalizingly over his bare, thickly muscled arm and her bottom lip held seductively between her teeth. The enormous Fae stared down at her through hooded eyes, his face leaned lower to meet hers, but he didn’t move otherwise. Isabeau had been flirting and teasing him, Duncan and Inari since she’d woken them from their death-sleep, but no matter how they ached to be taken by her, they were obedient to Isabeau’s every whim and wish and enduring to the end. She gave the Bear a smoldering look before inching past, and allowed her chest to just brush his before tossing her hair over her shoulder and sauntering past him into her father’s study.

The Bear released a tense, trembling breath in her wake, but stood firm in the doorway. Inari squeezed in past him before he turned in the threshold, effectively blocking it from any other intruders. Duncan loitered in the hallway, a little put-out at having not been invited inside but utterly exultant in his unswerving love and loyalty for the Succubus that teased him with cocked eyebrows and blushing red lips.

Isabeau’s smile lingered as her eyes settled on the sturdy, powerful figure that leaned back in his seat. Jack O’Meara gave his daughter a searching, calculating look as she settled herself easily into one of his plush leather chairs. Inari perched herself on its arm and draped her hand over Isabeau’s shoulder. Her delicate, pale fingers toyed distractedly with the heavy brown locks that cascaded over them.

“Did you raise them all?” O’Meara’s brown eyes glinted in the dim gas-lamp lighting of his office. After the day’s passionately excited events, the old Fomor preferred to retire to the calm dignity of his study, and chose to light it with the romance that only a small flame could give. Shadows flickered across the walls, and the faint fragrance of sandalwood drifted aimlessly in the air.

Isabeau raised an eyebrow at her father. She had chosen to only raise the three that trailed after her, like lovelorn puppies. The others she considered a satisfying, if not wholly appetizing, meal. The Redcaps under Duncan’s chaotic rule had tasted mostly like stale potato chips: salty, bitter, and totally empty. But power was power, and after draining nearly half a dozen of them, she felt the indistinct, though potent, rush of sexual vitality pulse through her, warm and close and heady. It made her skin hum, and her nerve endings buzz and crackle with sweet wanton lust.

Isabeau had never felt so good, so free, in her short life. And she hadn’t even fed off any particularly powerful or delicious Fae yet.

“No,” she answered, her attention wandering to the Kitsune whose silken legs pressed against her own, whose fingertips drew tight, sensual circles into the nape of her neck and whose breath, still sweet with the flavor of her own Chi lingering on her tongue, drifted hot and wet against the shell of her ear.

A smirk curled the corner of the Succubus’ lip. Perhaps she’d take a little back from her sweet, doting Inari…

“Isabeau…” Jack drew her name out with a long, exasperated sigh. He tapped the edge of his desk compulsively, the edges of the newspaper he’d spread out over it crackling underneath his rigid staccato jab. “You know I only ask you to do this in order to build a line of defense against those who would oppose us,” he frowned sternly over the bridge of his nose. He was proud of the woman his daughter had become, prouder of the Succubus that had broken free of that woman with just the right amount of prodding.

But he was still her father, and expected his wishes to be respected and obeyed.

Isabeau licked her lips, and raised her hand to walk her fingers suggestively up Inari’s spine. The Kitsune stiffened under her touch, her breath held in anticipation, before Isabeau dragged her nails back down, her fingers catching in the thin fabric of Inari’s shirt and drawing a sharp, low pant of arousal from the red-head poised halfway in her lap.

“Humor me, my dear. Bring the Redcaps back. There will be ample opportunities to feed your insatiable appetites after our plans have come to fruition,” his tone was gentle, but uncompromising. Jack smiled indulgently at his daughter, who teased Inari’s mouth with the close proximity of her own.

Isabeau flattened her hand on the small of Inari’s back, it wandered around to cup the curve of her waist. Her thumb slipped under the hem of the Kitsune’s top and rubbed the exposed flesh absently. Her tongue darted out between her lips, just shy of Inari’s, held breathlessly close to her own, and dragged to the corner of Isabeau’s growing coquettish smile; and she watched through bedroom eyes at the effect her warm breath on Inari’s mouth had on the shuddering, blushing Kitsune.

She turned her face from Inari’s sharply to glare balefully at her father. There were other Redcaps. Isabeau had seen them wandering the halls of her father’s sprawling estate, aimless and vulgar. Still, Isabeau could play along, at least until she really got bored, and it would be such fun taking those Redcaps that still lived as her own loyal, unswerving, adoring Thralls. Inari boldly pressed a soft, wet kiss to the velvety skin just below Isabeau’s ear; she could feel the Kitsune’s accelerated heart rate throb excitedly beneath her lips. She could feel the arousal that pooled between Inari’s legs flush the Kitsune’s skin and spread its warmth to the pad of her thumb, pressed provocatively against the crease between her hip and thigh. The glare faded from her features, making way for the sly, seductive smile that curled sensuously across her voluptuous lips.

With her free hand, she imitated a lazy salute at Jack O’Meara, her mouth pursing into a playful pout. Carefully, she disentangled herself from the Kitsune whose fingers twisted into her hair and whose mouth trailed hot, sloppy kisses along her jaw and neck, and stood. Inari whined in disappointment, but was quickly placated by the suggestive wink Isabeau gave her. The Kitsune’s body shivered in expectation, a low, excited gleam smoldering in her dark green eyes, and stood beside her Mistress.

Isabeau grinned over her shoulder at the Fomor that watched her expectantly from his mahogany desk.

“As you desire, Father.”

 

* * *

 

It was late by the time Dyson returned to the Dal, Lauren’s heavy steel briefcase in hand and Cassie the Oracle trotting at his heels. He rolled his eyes and shoved the heavy door open, gesturing with his free hand for the petite girl to go in ahead, though he might not have bothered as she shoved her way past him anyway, chattering incessantly and squealing excitedly at her friend over the phone.

Irritation flared in the Wolf for an instant. Cassie had kept him waiting for her outside Mayer’s Chinese restaurant for close to twenty minutes, and hadn’t even bothered with a greeting or apology when she’d finally hopped into the truck. She was already babbling animatedly into her phone, and hadn’t even stopped for air on the drive over. The subtle prodding of the start of a massive headache writhed at the base of his skull. He swallowed down his anger and pushed on through the door after her.

A single, scorching glare from the Morrigan at Cassie brought silence to the high-pitched, staccato conversation. The Oracle mumbled something about calling back into the receiver before hastily flipping it shut and stuffing it into her pocket.

“What up, homies?!” Cassie’s mouth split into a painfully cheerful grin, her voice grating on the Wolf’s ears, though he was grateful for the short reprieve Evony’s glare had given him.

Dyson settled the steel briefcase on the smooth, shiny surface of the bar in front of Trick. The bartender gave him a sympathetic look before settling his hands on the case and pulling it closer to him.

“Right. Cassie, Vex, and Maia, my taproom is at your disposal. The rest of you, first round’s on the house,” the Blood King started pulling tankards off the shelf and filling them with beer as Tamsin and Hale collected around Dyson. Tamsin watched her human follow after the Mesmer and the Oracle and disappear through the door that led to the keg room, body tense and rigid with discomfort and distrust. Maia had never trusted the Mesmer to begin with, and the close brush with the Morrigan less than an hour ago would have done nothing to allay any sense of impending danger she might have felt at being alone with one of Evony’s most loyal subjects and a Mesmer who still seemed to ache to be back in the Morrigan’s good graces. But once again, she brushed her anxieties aside to do as her conscience demanded of her. Tamsin’s mouth twisted to conceal the satisfaction it gave her and rationalized that if Maia was to be her pet, she may as well feel some sense of pride in her. Like humans did with a particularly clever dog or cat.

“Well. Now I’m just bored,” The Morrigan looked over the group clustered around Trick and the drinks he poured for them, a look of utter distaste twisting her lip and darkening her expression. She stepped away from the bar and snapped her fingers, ushering in the guards that had been standing patiently, silently, just outside the Dal’s door.

“I’m surprised you managed to stay this long,” Trick snorted derisively and cocked an annoyed eyebrow at the leader of the Dark Fae. He didn’t trust her, and his distrust went so far as to feel uncomfortable with the cruel-hearted brunette’s involvement in their plans. If her clan hadn’t been so directly involved, he would have risked Evony’s ire and demanded she leave. He already had, the moment she stepped through the door, but Cassie and Tamsin’s involvement, and by extension, Maia’s, had given her the right to remain as long as she felt the need. Still, the sooner she left, the better for them all. It was doubtful the Morrigan would offer any more in the way of help, and even if she did, Trick would not have been inclined to accept it.

“Not more surprised than I am, I assure you,” the leader of the Dark Fae spared a scathing glare for the keeper of the way station before dropping his gaze disinterestedly. “This time, detective,” Evony turned away to direct a sharp stare at Tamsin, “keep me apprised of everything that happens. I will not be amused if you disobey my orders… again.” The warning in Evony’s tone was entirely unmistakable, even hidden underneath the layers of nonchalance and the casual smile that played across her soft, red lips.

Tamsin only nodded once, and the Morrigan strode to the door, her heels clicking loudly over the hardwood floors. The pair of heavily muscled bodyguards glowered at Tamsin, and one raised an umbrella just outside the threshold. Evony slipped between them and disappeared under it into the thick, cold night outside, and the door thudded closed. Hale, Trick and Dyson all breathed heavy sighs of relief at her exit, and single-mindedly, they all returned to the task at hand. 

 

* * *

 

Lauren’s gentle, precise fingers prodded the shallow wound at the back of her head. A flinch marred her features as pain peppered the circumference of the injury, like little needles piercing the bruised, tender flesh that throbbed painfully beneath the heavy matting of her mussed blond hair.

Her concussion had finally passed. She eyed the small pool of vomit she’d expelled a short time ago, disgust curling her features, though she could hardly smell its pungent odor. The rich bouquet of blood, death and disease overpowered it easily, and she’d grown accustomed to the offensive smells some time ago.

Still, she withdrew from the puddle of sick, and pulled her hand away from the back of her skull. Her blood was dry and caked, and had come away a thick, coppery ooze on her fingers, dusty and flaky and sticky against her skin. Her head felt clearer, though it rang painfully. Her eyes could focus now, and the dull flickering of the torches in their sconces no longer made her dizzy and nauseous. Absently, she wondered whether Maia had heard the rushed instructions she’d given her, what she and Dyson and Tamsin must be doing now. She wondered where Kenzi was, if the petite, spirited woman was okay. Would Hale help the others with the rescue mission, now that he was the Ash and needed to do his utmost to keep safe and protect the precarious peace between the clans? Or would he rush in to the defense of his property, his Ward?

Lauren knew she needed to bide her time, but time seemed to pass so slowly in this dank, underground stone prison. All she could do was chip away at Bo’s consciousness whenever the overpowered Succubus came down to stare in silence at her – she’d done so twice already since Maia, Tamsin and Dyson had left, even with her father and her little Fae groupies to distract her. Lauren considered the cold, distracted attentions a small, personal victory.

The sound of footfalls, varied in weight but in perfect synchrony, tore the doctor from her self-reflections. Among the heavy beats of Dolph’s and Duncan’s feet and the lighter, pattering skips of Inari’s, Lauren could still discern Bo’s graceful, perfectly measured steps. If the tramping boots of a whole army were to drown out the sound of Bo’s feet, Lauren knew she would still recognize her lover’s distinct footsteps. She clambered close to the bars and pulled herself up, her face close to the cold iron and her eyes squinting to distinguish the shadowed shapes that sharpened as they drew nearer.

Bo’s intense blue eyes were the first to gain form, gleaming coldly through the darkness. Lauren drew in a sharp, anxious breath at the sight of them, her throat bobbed with the sob that still fought to choke through, and her lips tightened and quivered, the corners drawing down tightly, though she struggled against it. This time would not be like the others. When Bo came down alone, Lauren knew she had the freedom to sit or pace, to whisper or talk to the blue-eyed creature that only stared back in a haze of arousal, confusion and distaste. When Bo came down alone, Lauren knew she was slowly getting through the Super-Succubus to the woman that lay dormant inside, and there was hope that Lauren could bring Bo back to herself.

But for her whole posse to come down with her… This time, Bo came down to perform a specific task. Lauren couldn’t fathom how her Thralls might react to the quiet, insistent reminiscence Lauren kept up in hopes that Bo would remember. She couldn’t guess how safe she was, even with Bo’s protective, possessive instincts that had kept her alive so far.

“Bo,” her voice came out mangled with the cry that clogged her throat, she ached to reach her arms out and to feel Bo’s hands grasp them gently, reassuringly, with a smile and a kiss and a promise that everything was going to be just fine. Her chest tightened with the pressure of that dear, crushing need.

Inari’s slender form crashed into the bars Lauren stood in front of, sending the doctor reeling backward and stumbling to fall onto her bruised backside. In an effort to break her fall, Lauren threw her hands back, and she cried out against the hot pain that scraped into her palms. They throbbed with the bruise that flowered across them, and bright, bitter red droplets of blood welled against the thin, shallow lacerations that streaked them.

The Kitsune snarled viciously at her, her body still pressed against the bars of Lauren’s cage, her face lit with ugly hatred, until Bo’s smooth, elegant hand reached out to cup the red-head’s shoulder tenderly.

“Leave her alone,” Isabeau’s tone was soft and gentle, but brooked no argument. With a last, furious twitch of her lips, Inari backed away slowly from the bars, her rich emerald eyes never leaving Lauren’s wide, terrified ones.

Lauren’s breath was ragged with fear and emotion. Her gaze flitted to Bo immediately, imploring and hopeful, sparkling with the fresh tears that rose unbidden, and she scrambled back to her feet.

“Bo, please!” her voice rang against the rough walls that surrounded her. She didn’t dare step closer, but her hands clasped before her, praying for the Succubus to hear her, “This isn’t you! Bo, listen to me!” A silent sob shook her shoulders, the force of her fear and anguish tearing her apart, almost as physically as it did emotionally. “I’m right here. Come back to me, honey,” her words descended into a dry, ragged whisper, her eyes squeezed shut in utter futility, the tears that had gathered in her eyes were swept by her lashes, absorbed by them so that they spread and tickled the corners of her face. When she opened her eyes again, her sight was blurred by their heavy density. If only Bo would remember, would recognize the love and intimacy they shared together, the things that had made her human. Lauren ached to bring her back to the woman that had wanted the freedom to choose a normal life: the house, the picket fence, the children, the loving significant other. If only she could get out of this damn prison, if only she could just touch Bo, hold her in her arms, she knew she could bring Bo back to herself.

But Isabeau seemed to know that too.

Isabeau regarded the human that begged with a mixture of cold suspicion, keen interest and a strange, powerful arousal. Her intense blue eyes hooded with the warm sensation of desire that spread through her. Since her ‘awakening’, it was a sensation that always lingered in the back of her mind, that gathered at her fingertips with every touch, that pooled at her center like a thirst she could never slake. A hunger she would never want to completely fill. A sensual smile curled her lips, the smile of a cat that toyed with a mouse, and her fingers slid from Inari’s shoulder, wound around her slender waist and dipped into the Kitsune’s pocket.

Lauren could see even through her distorted vision that her entreaties fell upon deaf ears. Isabeau had come down here for a specific purpose, and this time, it was Lauren that was the unwanted distraction.

“Leave her alone,” Isabeau drawled carelessly, her voice husky and seductive, “but if she moves or makes a sound…” her voice trailed off as she leaned in close to the Bear that stood close behind her, her lips hovering beside his bent ear and her breath hot and moist against its crooked shell, “…kill her.” 

Wide, malevolent grins spread gleefully across Dolph’s, Duncan’s and Inari’s faces. They knew Lauren as their competition, and that was an order they would be glad to carry out. Duncan pursed his lips briefly to blow a silent, cruelly sarcastic kiss in Lauren’s direction. Isabeau’s chin dipped, her mouth curved into a seductive, teasing smile, and her eyes danced over Lauren’s shaking, unkempt form. She took a slow, languorous step back, her hand pulling out of Inari’s pocket and her fingers tugging briefly, playfully at its edge, before she dropped her hand to her side, turned and strode deeper into the dungeon.

Lauren watched, silent with terror, her face wet with the tears she could no longer contain, as Bo dropped to the floor in front of the mass of Redcap bodies that lay tangled just outside her cell. The Succubus’ mesmerizing cerulean eyes scanned the corpses quickly before she opened her lips and breathed out a pale ribbon of pink light. It’s thin, faded coils were distinctly different than the steady, warm glow of Chi she’d breathed back into her first Thralls, but the bodies that lay before her twitched and shuddered all the same.

Their eyes, when they opened, were dull and stupid, and Isabeau reluctantly thickened the river of sexual energy, and breathed their new, mindlessly devoted lives back into them almost as wholly as they’d been before.

 

* * *

 

It had taken most of what was left of the night for Cassie to discover the exact whereabouts of the missing goth-lolita and pinpoint it onto a map, and for Tamsin, Trick, Dyson and Hale to work out a plan for her rescue and Bo’s recovery. It was a rough, rudimentary plan, and relied heavily on Kenzi and Lauren’s ability to calm Bo enough to get within arm’s reach and deliver the injection to the crazed Succubus, as well as on Tamsin’s, Dyson’s and Hale’s own prowess to hold off and distract any of the Fae that might try to interfere. There was a lot being left up to chance, but there was little choice and less time to come up with anything better.

There were only a few hours left until dawn when they finally split up and went home to try to get a little rest before they put that plan into action. Tamsin pulled out a blanket and pillow from the hall closet for Maia to use. Maia watched the Valkyrie closely, the curiosity in her unbruised eye nearing suspicion, despite their short, quiet conversation at the Dal, when they’d been waiting for Cassie’s arrival.

Maia and Dyson had both been very vocal about going after Kenzi right away. Hale seemed to almost agree, but in the end, had insisted with Trick and Tamsin that it would be safer for everyone involved if they waited until morning. Maia, Tamsin and Dyson were still recovering from the grueling events of the day, and it was almost certain that Bo would have revived Dolph, the Redcaps, and the Kitsune that had masqueraded as Kenzi. They couldn’t be certain that the real Kenzi wasn’t being watched closely, and if they came in to get her too soon, they might tip their own hand.

It had been difficult to convince the human and Wolf that waiting, while difficult, was the better option. They were raring to go, and it was only because going in too soon lowered their chances of success that Maia and Dyson finally surrendered.

“Why do you care?” Maia finally asked, her uninjured eye focused on the Valkyrie that struggled to contain a large, heavy blanket and a pillow in her arms. Tamsin turned her attention to Maia sharply, eyebrow cocked in confusion.

“Care about what?”

“About helping them. Helping Bo, Lauren and Kenzi. It’s been perfectly clear that you and they aren’t exactly on the friendliest terms.”

Tamsin considered this for a moment, finally succeeding with the bundle in her arms and carrying it over to the couch, where Maia sat, watching her with a guarded expression firmly in place. She tossed the make-shift bedclothes onto the couch beside the human, then knelt down in front of her, head tilted to the side in contemplation.

“Why do you?” her voice was soft, her faded green eyes searched Maia’s, though Maia couldn’t fathom what they might be searching for. Maia’s brow furrowed, she thought it must be obvious, and it didn’t escape her notice that Tamsin hadn’t answered her question.

“This all happened because of me. What kind of a person would I be if I just let them deal with the consequences of my own cowardice and selfish actions alone?” Maybe if Maia hadn’t gone home that night, if she’d stayed at the clubhouse with Kenzi, things would have been different. Kenzi might not have been kidnapped, Lauren might not have been left alone to get kidnapped as well. Maybe if Maia had just been brave enough to go straight to the Morrigan with Seth’s kidnap in the first place, maybe if she hadn’t just hidden in the closet like a coward when the Redcaps had come the first time…

“Yeah,” Tamsin’s quietly uttered agreement tore Maia from her guilty introspections and brought her attention back to the green-eyed Valkyrie that still knelt before her. “I get that,” Tamsin pulled Maia’s hand into her own, a gesture that somehow surprised the blonde almost as much as it did the human poised tensely before her, “but you did what you felt you had to do, to keep yourself safe and bring Seth home. You couldn’t have known that O’Meara was after Bo, not Seth. Hindsight is always 20/20, Maia.”

Maia sighed and nodded. She knew Tamsin was right. But it was also exactly the reason it mattered so much that she do everything she can to help the people that had done so much to help her. A light, gentle touch to her bruised eye brought Maia out of her reverie, and a wry smile twisted her lip at the easy way in which Tamsin had deflected her original question.

“You still haven’t told me why you care,” Maia tugged at the hand that still held hers and pushed away the fluttering fingers that examined her eye with the other.

“That looks better than it did this morning,” Tamsin chirped, her voice sounding false even to her own ears. She was hedging, quite badly. Her unwillingness to lay bare her soul was part habit, part survival instinct, and she couldn’t help refusing to meet Maia’s eyes.

“Tamsin.”

Tamsin puffed out a breath, exasperated by the nosy human’s insistence to understand her every motive. Maia’s fingers wrapped around her own were warm and oddly comforting. Tamsin generally didn’t like to be touched. To her, it usually felt invasive, sometimes demanding, even on a few occasions had left her feeling claustrophobic. But Maia’s touch only seemed to convey understanding and support. She met Maia’s earnest stare with weary, tired eyes.

“Because the reason you do is a noble one,” her answer was honest, if not complete. For now, Maia supposed it would have to do, because Tamsin pulled her hand out of Maia’s and stood, fingers brushing through long, silken hair and her eyes hooded with exhaustion.

“Get some rest. We have a busy day tomorrow,” she picked her way around Maia’s legs and walked across the living room to the threshold of her bedroom. Tamsin was spent, it had been a long, strange day for her, and she was eager for not only this day, but the whole adventure, to be over. She regarded the human she had claimed with narrowed eyes, entirely uncertain about where they stood, feeling almost regretful for the way she had claimed her from the Morrigan, when an end to the tough creature would have been so much easier. The Morrigan would be out for her blood, now. She’d crossed the leader of the Dark Fae, had even humiliated her in front of Trick and Dyson, had undermined her at almost every juncture. She should have just let the Morrigan have her plaything and cut herself a little slack.

But that would never have sat well with the ancient, battle-scarred, resilient Valkyrie. She had promised Seth she would look out for Maia. And she had to admit she rather liked the lean, tough little tomboy. This was Tamsin’s chance – one she hadn’t taken or been given in such a long time – to not be alone anymore.

If she didn’t screw things up. If she didn’t get Maia killed and have to send her away, whether to Valhalla or anyplace else.

Besides, Tamsin had always loved a challenge.

Maia sighed and pulled her glasses off, wincing at the painful way they scraped against her bruised face, and tossed them onto the scuffed wooden coffee table in front of her.

“I don’t know if I can sleep. I’m too wired,” she dropped her head into her hands, fingers digging into her scalp and getting lost in the wild curls of her auburn hair.

“Try,” Tamsin spared a glance at the beat up old clock that hung on the bare wall of her apartment. There were a scant two hours until dawn, less than that before they’d be rising again, to meet Vex, Hale and Dyson at the Dal. Then she disappeared into the comforting darkness of her room and shut the door behind her.


	13. Chapter 13

Despite her assertion that she couldn’t, Maia fell into fitful, restless sleep the moment her head hit the pillow. She didn’t dream, but the darkness that had enveloped her as she lost consciousness was as heavy as the darkness of the living room once she’d switched off the light, and saturated with intense fear and anxiety. Every shadow, every glimmer of light passing through the bare, unshuttered windows of the Spartan kitchenette and living room seeped into her dreamless sleep and inspired reminiscences of the Redcap attack from the night before.

Still, when Tamsin had woken her a little more than an hour later, Maia felt the ache to lie still under her blanket and sleep just a while longer. It was with a worn will and a resigned sigh that she rose and changed and followed the Valkyrie out to the truck, to the day that Maia knew, absolutely, would be as dark and as horrific as her dreamless, panicked sleep.

False dawn blushed against the metropolitan skyline, a thin stretch of rose pushing against the gray film of a cold pre-dawn, promising warmth and clear blue skies and perfect weather more fitting to the late spring than it had been of late. Dew drops mingled with last night’s rain over every frigid, misted surface, and a cold, fresh breeze plucked at their coat collars and hair as they stood shivering outside the locked entrance to the Dal. Maia and Tamsin waited wordlessly for an answer to their quiet, insistent knocking, yawning defiantly at the newborn day and refusing to meet each other’s tired eyes.

Finally, the sound of tumblers turning broke the uncomfortable silence, and the door stole open with an inviting creak. Vex slipped through, black hair still ruffled and blinking away the effects of sleep that threatened to smudge his mascara. The Mesmer rubbed the bridge of his nose in lieu of scrubbing the corners of his eyes, careful not to ruin the make-up he’d painstakingly applied only minutes ago, and nodded in greeting to the women that waited patiently for him.

Tamsin grasped Vex’s arm, her fingers digging sharply into his sleep-numbed skin and eliciting a growl of irritation from the barely awake Mesmer.

“Be careful,” she spared a worried, fleeting look at the human beside her, then brushed past him to disappear hurriedly into the dim interior of the Dal Riata, and Vex was sure that her warning wasn’t meant for him at all. He rolled his eyes, but didn’t deign to reply, only waited for Maia to vanish through the door after her and cast a cursory glance at the empty alleyway before following the human inside.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It hadn’t taken long for Hale and Dyson to join them, and it was shortly after dawn finally bathed the sky in a warm array of rose and gold and blue when they set out from the Dal. They’d taken two cars, Tamsin, Dyson and Hale in the Valkyrie’s truck, and Vex and Maia in Bo’s hotwired Camaro. Maia had been unsure of Vex from the moment she’d seen him at Bo’s house, had been struggling with whether to trust the wayward Mesmer both with her own safety and with the case. Though it had been difficult to do so, Maia had been forced to set aside her suspicion and have faith, instead, in the fact that Tamsin and her partner, Dyson, trusted him enough to include him in this rescue mission.

They drove in tense silence, some way ahead of Tamsin’s truck, and the tension only thickened as they veered off the road and Vex, very carefully, maneuvered the car between the thick set trees that lined the highway, and over the muddy, uneven earth that threatened to trap the car’s tires and keep them mired in the thick, sticky goop that resulted from the previous day’s heavy rain.

Maia had barely the chance to experience the promised warmth of the new day. The sun had finally climbed high enough in the sky to turn it a pale, cloudless blue, and the day’s warmth had only just begun to settle in, to wake the bugs and the bees and the little woodland animals before she and Vex had found the little burrow they’d been searching for.

“Look, as much as I appreciate the rousing rescue, why the hell isn’t Bo with you? What the Fae happened?” Kenzi’s voice was dry and cracked, barely above a whisper. She glared fiercely first at Vex, then at Maia, who gave each other tired, wary glances and gestured her drink her water.

The pair had found her just where Cassie had promised they would, hidden deep in a cave far into the labyrinth of the forest that rambled around Jack O’Meara’s estate. A couple of nasty-looking humanoid under-Fae had been chained to its entrance, sleeping soundly over enormous bones stripped of their meat, with their hair matted and their skin stained brown and black. She’d been shackled to the ground just out of their reach, none the worse for wear but for an ugly bruise that swelled along her hairline. She was parched, and close to starving – it looked like the Kitsune that had stolen her identity had neither bothered to check on her since the night before and had considered it entirely unnecessary to feed her. Maia had the foresight to bring along a large bottle of water, but they didn’t have time for Kenzi to sit down and eat. They’d needed to push on. So they did.

It hadn’t taken them very long to find the tunnel that Cassie had told them ran from the hollow into the deep recesses of Jack O’Meara’s home. Quietly, they’d unshackled Kenzi, and mouthing silently for her to keep quiet, had crept beneath the curtain of lichen and decaying roots into a dank earthen passageway that seemed more natural than intentional. It wasn’t until they’d left the cave’s mouth well behind them that they’d finally stopped, if only for a moment, to allow Kenzi the water she desperately craved, and to send Tamsin the text message she waited for. Here, they could speak in whispers, though no ears besides their own were present to hear.

Maia sighed, the air whistling from between her teeth low and soft. She reached for the bottle in Kenzi’s hand, afraid that she would drink too much too fast, and would be incapacitated by the cramps that would surely follow.

“It’s a long story, Kenzi,” she murmured quietly into the darkness that enveloped them. Her flashlight raced wildly across the damp earth walls and ceiling as she struggled to pull the bottle from Kenzi’s tight fingers. “You’ll give yourself a stomach ache,” Maia frowned sternly at the pale-faced girl in front of her, though her features were blurred and indistinct in the darkness. Vex settled the light of his own torch across her face.

In an effort to shield her sensitive eyes from the burning light, Kenzi released her hold on the bottle and her hands flew to cover her face, recoiling from the sudden brightness and grumbling under her breath. She scowled at Maia, who tucked the bottle under her arm with a triumphant, but unhappy, half-smile.

“Well, if we’re going to be burrowing into the center of the earth, Jules Verne, I’m pretty sure we got time,” Kenzi snapped ill-temperedly. Her eyes squeezed shut against the pained expression that painted Maia’s face. Then her lips pursed together, and as suddenly as they’d tensed, her features relaxed. Dry air blew from her chapped lips in a heavy, exhausted sigh, “I’m sorry. There’s shit all over the fan, and I just want to know how it got there.”

Maia nodded and turned, the halo of light from her flashlight settling on the narrow lane of earth that led ever deeper into the twisted bowels beneath the mansion. Kenzi’s apology was unnecessary. As far as Maia was concerned, she felt it was herself that ought to be apologizing to Kenzi, and it showed great strength of character and great compassion from the raven-haired human to offer the apology that Maia couldn’t seem to bring herself to offer in return.

“Yeah. A lot’s happened. I’ll tell you on the way, but we need to keep going,” Maia struggled to keep her tone even, to keep the anger and grief that swelled and crashed violently at every memory of the past forty-eight hours at bay, so that they could carry on.

Kenzi hesitated, still a little reluctant, then picked her way carefully over the roots and stones that twisted and jutted from the earth beneath her feet.

“Is Bo okay?” her voice, broken and dry already, seemed small in the crushing darkness. Vex aimed the light of his torch at the ground just ahead of Kenzi, illuminating her path as well as he could for them both while he followed.

“Depends on your definition of ‘okay’, but yeah, she’s just peachy,” there was a bitter, sarcastic edge to Vex’s tone, the girls could both hear the sneer that pulled the corners of his lips downward as he spoke. But he placed a gentle, supportive hand on the small of Kenzi’s back to help her on, and was careful to keep the circle of light just ahead of Kenzi’s unsteady feet, his actions thoughtful and considerate despite the roughness of his words.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Valkyrie tapped her fingernails into her phone nervously. The dawn’s promise of a warm day had not been empty, and less than a mile away from Jack O’Meara’s home, the weather was more than warm – it was hot and sticky. The windows were all rolled down to invite the warm breeze that drifted past lazily only every so often, too tired to really kick up and cool the sweating occupants of the truck.

Tamsin unlocked her phone and frowned down at the screen as it lit up. No phone calls, no text messages. Vex and Maia were still searching then, for the troublesome human that had gotten herself kidnapped. She pulled in a deep, calming breath, her eyes closing for a moment in an attempt to still the anxious fluttering of her heart.

What she hated most about her anxiety for the human she’d claimed wasn’t simply that she felt it, but that she couldn’t understand why she felt it so fiercely. Slowly, Tamsin expelled the air she held in her lungs and opened her eyes again. No, that wasn’t true. She knew why she felt so nervous about Maia’s safety and well-being. The hope that she’d been struggling in vain not to feel welled up in her again – she had to bite her lip to push it back down, to push it away. They were still so uncomfortable with each other, still so wary of one another’s motives. But even after all the years of wandering this miserable earth alone, Tamsin could still recognize the smallest seed of potential friendship, of companionship, and she coveted it.

“Any word yet?” Hale’s voice beside her ear yanked Tamsin out of her reverie, and she started in her seat. She twisted to scowl at the Siren, grateful that she’d had the prudence to put the truck in park and kill the engine, because she’d floored the gas pedal with her foot in her surprise.

Hale settled his elbows on the front seats on either side of him, a large hand wiping at the thin film of sweat that gleamed against his brow and gathered in little droplets along his nose and upper lip.

“No,” Tamsin snapped. Dyson raised an eyebrow at his partner, before it twitched and fell into a pensive frown.

“They’ll be fine, Tamsin. The map was clear, and they’re not really late for…” Dyson’s stormy blue eyes fell to the truck’s digital clock, mouth moving silently while he calculated the distance they needed to travel, “… ten more minutes.”

“It’s just so damn hot!” Hale complained. If Maia had still been in the truck with them, Tamsin was sure she’d have agreed. The backseat was always warmer than the front, especially on humid days like this, when even the slightest warm wind wouldn’t even make it past the windows that barely rolled down. The Siren pinched his shirt between his fingers and flapped it, trying to get some air circulating and to cool himself down.

But the thought of what Maia’s opinion might have been had she been with them only served to foul Tamsin’s mood even more. She settled herself back into her chair, bumping its back violently in an effort to shake Hale’s elbow from its shoulder and scowled at the tree line they’d hidden just behind.

“Get over it, Siren,” she mumbled grumpily, ignoring the indignant shove Hale aimed at the side of her seat.

His pointed, heavily sarcastic snap about Tamsin’s charm and geniality went similarly ignored; Tamsin’s phone buzzed quietly between her clammy fingers, tearing the Valkyrie from her oppressive mood to the message that lit the screen.

[- _Got her. Dehydrated_  
 _and grumpy, but alive_  
 _and kicking. See you soon._  
 _Don’t die._ -]

Tamsin could have shouted with relief, but settled for a wry grin at the prim, grammatically-correct way Maia composed her text message. She locked the phone and dropped it into the cup holders in the panel that separated her seat from Dyson’s. Her eyes focused on Hale’s, the relieved smile still ghosting across her face, and kicked her door open.

“They found her. We’re up.”

Hale’s hand darted out to grab Tamsin’s shoulder before she had a chance to slide out of her seat, yanking her attention back to him.

“Is Kenzi okay?” Worry flashed in his brown eyes, though his mouth was set in a hard line, and Tamsin knew it was an emotion she hadn’t been meant to see. The glare that had tightened the corners of her eyes and mouth at the uninvited clutch of his hand on her arm softened into a knowing smirk.

“She’s fine, lover boy,” Tamsin’s eyebrows twitched at him suggestively before she pulled her arm away and slipped out of the truck. Dyson was already beside Hale’s door and yanked it open for him.

“You coming, or what?” the Wolf gave his old partner a half-smile, sharing the relief painted across Hale’s features at the news that Kenzi was uninjured. The snarky human with the big attitude was important to both of them, and they were both almost as deeply invested in her safety as they were in Bo’s.

Hale drew in a deep breath and stepped out of Tamsin’s old truck. Deep lines of determination etched his face, softened by the haze of sweat and humidity that clung to them unrelentingly.

The doors of the truck slammed shut in unison. Tamsin grinned at each of the men that stood in front of her, eager to be doing her part and considerably cheered by the prospect of a good, bloody battle.

“Let’s chew bubblegum, boys.”

 

\----------------------------------------------------

 

 

Tamsin’s eagerness quickly dissipated as they trudged through the thick brush of the woods that jealously guarded O’Meara’s mansion. They walked for nearly an hour, sweating and cursing the humidity that brought mosquitos and gnats and flies buzzing and biting at their skin, relentless and hungry for blood.

“Do you even know where we’re going?!” Hale snapped, waving his arms frantically around his face in a futile attempt to keep the angry horde of insects at bay. It was a long, winding, frustrated mile to Jack O’Meara’s sprawling property, and they’d had to redirect their route at least a dozen times to get past the many, almost deliberate, obstacles the forest had lain across their path.

Tamsin puffed air through her lips, her jaw jutting out to correct the angle so that the thin lock of hair that fell across her face was blown away. She felt her ire rise, her patience with the Siren growing shorter with each carefully placed step and each frustrating hurdle that slowed their progress.

“Yes, I am. Now shut up and let me focus,” Tamsin’s words were short and terse. Her hands balled into fists on either side of her and she screwed her eyes shut in an effort to concentrate. The faint, fragrant aroma of the flowers in O’Meara’s lush garden wafted tantalizingly through the thick, almost stagnant air, goading her onward, teasing her with the impression that they must be oh-so-close to their destination.

“Come on, it’s this way. I can smell the flowers,” Dyson murmured quietly, aware of the tension that rippled between his new partner and his old. Tamsin was an excellent tracker, but with his powerful sense of smell, so was he. Between the two of them, they’d managed to find their way through the thick, impenetrable undergrowth that guarded O’Meara’s property jealously. The Wolf brushed past Tamsin, leading them on a few steps more before she pushed right past him to take over the role of leader once again.

 Tamsin pressed forward, her fists unclenching and her confidence returning to her with Dyson’s reassurances that they were still on the right path, and swiped a low-lying branch out of her way. A triumphant grin curled her lips as woven metal glittered into view between the reaching, snatching fingers of tree limbs and scraggly brush.

She spared a glance behind her at Hale, a nasty smirk painted across her features. “I won’t say I told you so,” she taunted, finding petty pleasure in the irritated growl the Ash responded with.

Dyson rolled his eyes and curled his fingers around the warm, thin metal of the fence that barred their access. A lush, green lawn of freshly mowed grass sprawled lazily ahead of them, and the garden whose flowers he and Tamsin had smelled curled affectionately around the enormous Victorian mansion that rambled at its center.

The Valkyrie shook the thin fence, testing its solidity before hooking the toes of her shoes into its diamond-shaped spaces and pulling herself up and over it. It rattled under her weight, but held effortlessly otherwise, and Tamsin dropped to her feet on the other side, still smirking infuriatingly.

“Come on, man. We’ll find faces to break soon enough,” Dyson chuckled at his friend, who fumed still at the insufferable blonde that teased and taunted, and scrambled up and over the fence to join his new partner.

Hale followed last, muttering furious insults under his breath and swatting angrily at the insects that threatened to break his tremulous temper. He fell to a soft cushion of thick grass under his feet, and a gentle breeze swept across his sweat-dampened skin, soothing and placating. He breathed a heavy sigh, grateful to be away from the grasping, sharp fingers of the trees and at last within view of the battlefield on which they’d be making their stand.

A pair of shapes edged toward them slowly, gangly and loud as they joked and teased each other. They grew steadily larger, the crimson of their caps stark against the bright green of the lawn they tread on, as they approached.

“I thought you said we could get in undetected?” Hale breathed, his body tensing and his voice sharp with the return of his annoyance.

Tamsin shrugged.

“Does it matter? We can take two wimpy Redcaps. And it’s not like we’re the ones sneaking in. Or are you scared?” Tamsin’s voice was quiet and mocking, but her faded green gaze never left the nearing shapes of the Redcaps that walked ever closer.

“Just means we’re doing our job, distracting as many of them as we can,” Dyson rolled and squared his shoulders, and almost laughed when Tamsin raised a hand to wave cheerfully at the approaching enemy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kenzi only stumbled once while they trudged through the dank, dark tunnel to the shaft Cassie had told them would lead up into O’Meara’s dungeon. She listened while they recounted the past day’s events silently, her focus wholly on everything they described. The further they walked and the further their story unfolded, the paler her face became.

They paused for a few minutes, having finally caught her up to the point at which they found her, to give Kenzi a little time to think and drink a little more water. Maia watched her closely, compassion and concern drawing lines across her already tired face.

“I’m sorry,” she finally mumbled, barely able to say the words, but incapable of holding them back any longer. She was the source of all of their troubles, intentionally or not, and the weight of that was threatening to suffocate her.

Kenzi’s sharp pale eyes settled on hers for a brief moment, then she shrugged and sipped carefully at her water, and Maia felt at least a little of the weight of her guilt lift off her shoulders.

They didn’t stop for long. Kenzi was less resistant when Maia finally reached out to pull the nearly empty bottle of water from her dirty fingers, and tucked it carefully back under her arm. The silence around them was profound, close and choking, like the cloying scent of the earth that surrounded them and the impenetrable blackness that bore down on them.

Maia’s flashlight bobbed in the heavy darkness before her, revealing the tangled mess of roots and rock that twisted and projected out of the soft earth, threatening to trip her if she didn’t pick her way over them carefully enough. It was slow-going, but they were determined, and the only other alternative left to them was really no alternative at all.

Eventually, the small, round halo of yellow light that led the way stopped advancing, and climbed instead up a crumbling, pitted wall of hard-packed earth and stone. The trio collected under the narrow shaft that rose endlessly above them, flashlights searching the darkness above and eyes straining to see its end.

“Holy moly pants…” Kenzi muttered under her breath, her head craning back as far as it would go. It popped audibly as she squinted into the black void that looked as though it would swallow them whole, “did you guys know we were going downhill?”

Maia sighed heavily. Their descent must have been very gradual, or the hill the mansion was situated on must have been much larger than they’d thought, and the slight valley Kenzi’s prison was in much lower. She pulled the bottle of water out from under her arm and stared at it in mixed distaste and indecision, she wouldn’t be able to carry it while they climbed up, and it would be a terrible waste of water to leave it down here. Not to mention how much Maia abhorred littering.

Kenzi swiped the bottle from Maia’s grasp, eliciting an annoyed grumble from the distracted human, and upended the bottle, chugging down the last of the water as quickly as she could before Maia could react. She gave a satisfied sigh as the last of the cool liquid drained down her parched throat and swiped the back of her wrist across her mouth.

“Plastic is biodegradable, right?” Kenzi grinned, dropping the bottle to the ground with a hollow, muffled clunk. It jumped around their feet a few paces, then rolled to the round edge of the base of the tunnel.

Maia glared at Kenzi through her dirt streaked glasses.

“No, actually. It’s not,” she mumbled quietly. But what other choice did they really have? None of them could spare a hand to carry the bottle up with them, and there was nowhere else for the bottle to go. Heaving a resigned sigh, Maia wedged the edge of her flashlight between her teeth and tugged at the decaying wooden planks that climbed along the walls of the shaft. Vex followed suit immediately, and, finding the planks sufficiently stable, Maia led the way, climbing carefully up. Kenzi followed in the middle, her muscles stiff and complaining against the exertion that climbing at a ninety-degree angle demanded, and Vex took up the rear again.

The dim, yellow lights of their torches bobbed on ahead of them, egging them up farther and farther, though there seemed to be no end in sight. Maia’s shoulders screamed against the strain, she paused a moment to roll them, to stretch the tight and sore muscles that throbbed with every pull. Eventually, the pain dulled. The cool, still air around them turned hot and stuffy with their exertion, sweat tickled the sides of her face, her brow, her nose, and the space between her shoulders. It collected there and rolled in heavy, slow droplets down her spine, a slow, prickling agony that Maia ached to wipe away.

They climbed in near silence, the only noise that prodded the quiet was the sound of their careful, deliberate feet settling and leaning on old, decaying wood and their breath coming in short, shallow pants as they climbed. Time had become meaningless since the beginning of their journey from the cave’s mouth, though Vex and Maia both knew it ought to have been only an hour or so. But the dark stole away their sense of time, and her watch hung uselessly on her wrist as they climbed, the hands and numbers hidden in the darkness even if she’d been able to spare her hand to check it.

Finally, the shivering circle of light from her torch settled on rough surface. As they neared it, deep whorls of wooden grain swooped into sight, and eventually, Maia could reach out her hand to brush her fingers against the damp, gritty surface of old, moldy wood. She braced her back against the back of the shaft they climbed, finding to her surprise that she pressed herself to hard, rough stone rather than damp, soft earth. Her knuckles grazed the coarse jagged rock the wooden steps were drilled into, just to confirm their new surroundings, before she pressed the palm of her hand against the trapdoor above her. It didn’t budge, and the unforgiving, uneven stone she leaned her back against dug painfully into her skin.

Carefully, she repositioned herself, taking another step up and bowing her neck and shoulders to settle against the wooden trapdoor. It was heavy, and Maia hoped it wasn’t locked or that something too heavy for her to push aside lay on top of it, or else all their hard, diligent effort would have been for nothing. She grit her teeth, and her mouth and jaw ached against the strain of holding her flashlight there.

With a long, low groan, Maia strained against the trapdoor, her shoulders and back screaming with pain. Her face twisted into a grimace, her eyes screwed shut against the agony that tore through her and against the light of Vex’s flashlight, dancing from her face to the trapdoor she strained against.

She felt the warped wood above her shift with a groan that matched her own, and a sliver of pale light slid through the crack, flooding the shaft with a warm, flickering glow. Fresh air breathed in, like the soft sigh of a lover, cool against their sweating skin.

Vex tried to shout in excitement, and the mostly steady halo of light that streamed from his torch swung wildly as it tumbled away from Vex’s dry, aching mouth. In a panicked attempt to recover it, he clamped his teeth even tighter, and flinched as they ground against the rough steel grip of its shaft and clicked audibly against the inside of his teeth.

“Oh, yes! You got it, Curly, don’t stop!” Kenzi’s voice, cracked and dry, was a shock to Maia’s ears. But the sweet, refreshing air that whooshed in, the gentle light that cascaded through the crack and Kenzi’s broken encouragements sent a thrill of excitement and energy rushing through Maia’s veins. With a final, tremendous effort, she pushed against the trapdoor, every muscle quivering, her clenched teeth tender and aching, and her fingers stiff around the topmost step. The heavy wood creaked as the slit grew into a crack, then into a wedge, and finally, Maia burst through the opening and the door slammed open on its side.

Maia collapsed onto the cold stone floor of the T-section that separated the wine cellar from the dungeon, her chest heaving, her mouth sucking in air around the flashlight still clenched between her teeth and her feet scrambling to pull herself the rest of the way out of the tunnel. With trembling fingers, she tore the flashlight from her mouth and shoved her stiff jaw shut before reaching down into the inky blackness of the pit they crawled out of to grasp Kenzi by the armpits and yank her up.

Vex scrambled up beside them, spitting his flashlight onto the ground and panting and rolling on the blessedly cold stone floor and sucking in cool, grateful lungfuls of fresh air.

They lay there for a few short minutes, blinking against the torchlight that flickered, painfully bright to their sensitive, dilated eyes and gulping in oxygen. The cold stone beneath them was a relief to their tired, hot, aching muscles and in the much drier air of the hall, the sweat on their skin quickly evaporated.

But Maia knew that time was not on their side. Slowly, reluctantly, she rolled onto her belly and pulled herself unsteadily to her feet. Her legs trembled and her knees threatened to give out under her, but determination supported her, and she offered Kenzi her hand to help pull the other human up too.

“I hope you know where you’re going,” Vex groaned balefully as he pulled himself upright. He braced his hands behind his back, leaned against them, and heard it crack loudly against the heavy silence of the hallway with not a small amount of satisfaction.

Maia nodded, her brown gaze fixed on the shadows that jumped and danced over the heavy wooden door at the end of the left hall. Behind that, through a haze of disease and death, was the dungeon to which the butler, the Redcaps and Dolph had led them less than twenty-four hours ago.

Her sneakers made little sound as she crept towards it. The door was open just a crack, and the vile stench of sick and waste crept in tendrils through it. Carefully, Maia pushed it open just a little more and squeezed through, breathing through her mouth and tiptoeing as quietly as she could. Vex and Kenzi stole in behind her.

Not one of them noticed the pair of eyes that gleamed sinisterly in the shadows behind them.


	14. Chapter 14

Tamsin crossed her arms over her chest, a cocky smile curved her pale lips and glinted in her eyes. Dyson and Hale arranged themselves on either side of her, and they waited patiently for the pair of Redcaps walking toward them to get within speaking distance.

They were laughing crudely and bumping their fists to each other’s shoulders. As they grew closer, Tamsin could see that their shirts and pants were stained with old, dried blood, none of which appeared to be theirs. So then, Bo had brought back those she’d drained the day before. Her eyes narrowed as they approached.

“Hello, boys. Think Daddy will let Bo come out and play?” sarcasm dripped from her every word. She let her smile spread slightly when they stopped just outside of arm’s reach.

A smirk curled at the edge of one Redcap’s mouth, his pale eyes glinted cruelly, and he looked Tamsin up and down slowly, evaluating the challenge she might pose. The spread of his arrogant grin told Tamsin he’d found her wanting. Her chin dipped, she struggled unsuccessfully to contain her own self-confident smile.

He sucked on a tooth and nodded at them.

“Well, I donno, luv. Why don’t we go on in and ask him?” he flicked a hand at his friend imperiously, clearly the man in charge between the two of them, “we’ll be relieving you of any weapons you might have on ya.” His partner grinned and reached over to Dyson.

The Shifter snarled suddenly, his movements were a blur as he grasped the Redcap’s invasive hand and twisted it sharply around. It gave a loud, sickening crack that drew a yelp of pain from the hapless Brit’s twisted mouth, and Dyson yanked him down to crash into the ground.

Sudden fury and hatred sparked in the first Redcap’s pale eyes, and he threw his fist at Tamsin’s jaw with a force that might have cracked brick. The Valkyrie’s right hand flashed upward to deflect the blow, her fingers curled around his wrist while the other grasped at his opposite shoulder, and with a subtle, powerful force, drove her knee into his unprotected belly.

Hot, fetid breath washed over Tamsin’s face as the air was shoved right out of him. The Redcap doubled over on her knee, and Tamsin pushed him down into the ground, smirking still and almost insulted that they had both underestimated not only herself, but her partner, so badly.

Hale chuckled quietly just behind her and to her left. He edged around behind her and bent to grab the spluttering Redcap firmly by the nape of his neck and around one arm. With an effortless yank, he pulled the Redcap up to his feet and jerked his arm behind his back. He leaned in then, his mouth close to the Redcap’s ear and a cocky smile firmly in place.

“Ya’ll are so misguided!” he laughed, pulling his captive around to see Dyson pull his buddy, whimpering in pain and clutching his broken wrist to his chest, up to his feet. Neither seemed able to look each other in the eye, and shame, pain and fury colored their ruddy, blood-stained cheeks a bright shade of red. “What made you think you could possibly be a match for a Valkyrie, a Wolf, and a Siren?”

The mockery in Hale’s voice, and the indignance it brought to both Redcap’s faces, brought a self-satisfied smirk to Tamsin’s lips. It was hardly a skirmish – just remotely within the realm of ‘action’ at all. But it had set Tamsin’s heart pumping, and the knowledge that more of the same awaited her in the house upon the hill set an edge to the excitement that flooded her system. This time, there would be no retreat. Only victory.

“Take us to your leader!” Tamsin waved emphatically with her hands, and Hale and Dyson both released their captives at once, giving them each a little shove in the right direction. “Well, actually, to your leader’s daddy,” she amended, her sea-green eyes sparkling with anticipation.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Bo… please…” Lauren’s voice was muffled through tears and choked with exhaustion, “try, just try to remember.” Her fingers wrapped around the bars of her cell, the only part of her that was visible at the angle from which Maia, Kenzi and Vex entered. Bo stood just out of reach, her arms crossed defensively over her chest and dismay etched clearly across her features. Even in profile, the stunning blue of her eyes burnt with an intensity and fervor that spoke volumes about the conflict that raged within the super-Succubus.

Isabeau shifted uneasily, her gaze dancing over the weak, filthy figure of the woman she’d called her lover. Even in this shape, bloody and covered in filth and trembling with hunger and exhaustion, Isabeau could feel a powerful pull of attraction to the doctor that begged for her on the other side of the prison’s bars. Her brows knit together, her tongue darted out to drag across her top lip, dampening the skin in a gesture that said more about her intense arousal than the condition of her mouth.

She could feed. Isabeau considered the tempting idea carefully, exploring the benefits of breaking through the prison cell and crushing her body to Lauren’s, of feeling the fragile human writhe in ecstasy beneath her, of tasting the sweet, wild honey flavor of the blond doctor’s Chi as she pulled it, warm and living and healing from Lauren’s delicious mouth into her own. She could drain Lauren dry, quiet the insistent pleading that picked at Isabeau’s hard, super-Succubus veneer, and simultaneously satisfy the ever present ache she felt for Lauren’s hands on her body, her delicious climax on her skin.

Killing the pathetic creature would break the beating heart of the woman that still lived, still struggled inside her, however. Isabeau chewed on her bottom lip, aware of how tenuous her grip on her own self-control had become, how much harder she had to struggle with every moment she continued to spend just outside of Lauren’s reach. If Lauren’s touch found her, if her alter-ego’s pet human should turn up safely, Isabeau wasn’t entirely sure she would be able to maintain control at all anymore. And yet, she couldn’t stay away.

She should have taken Inari to her bed. Her fingernails dug little half-moons into her skin at the thought of the little red-headed Fox-Shifter who trailed after her like a lost puppy. She’d taken sips and tastes from the Kitsune, reveled in the ecstatic moans of the petite, delicate creature that begged her for more, thrilled in the erotic cries of pleasure, the drawn out distortions of her name while she’d fed from her.

But the Bo inside of her had made it impossible to do anything more than feed. Suppressed arousal coiled and throbbed, hot and slick between her thighs. She glared at the human that clung to the bars of her cage, her eyes pulsing a blue so vibrant, so thunderous and electric, it almost crackled and threatened to scorch her eyelids.

“Bo…” Lauren sighed, hopelessness closed in on her and sapped the strength from her voice. She leaned her forehead against the bars, too consumed by the bleakness that enshrouded her to hear the barely audible creak of the door and the whispered footsteps that stole past its threshold.

Isabeau cocked her head, her sensitive hearing picking up the quiet noise, and turned, lips parted in surprise, to see Kenzi’s wide, pale eyes settle on her own.

“No!” Inari’s voice shattered the stunned silence, and the Kitsune that had been lurking about the halls, sulking that Isabeau had refused to bed her, blurred past the heavy wooden door and crashed into Maia’s already bruised and aching body.

“Vex!” Maia managed to cry as she twisted against the wildly flailing red-head. She wrapped her arms tightly around the tiny Fae, crushing her forcefully against her own body to keep her from barreling into Kenzi. The pair toppled and fell, thrashing and floundering against each other.

Vex tore the syringe he’d carried carefully in the pocket of his pants and tossed it to Kenzi, whose face was a grim mask of determination. A lifetime passed in mere moments in the swirling cerulean eyes of the Succubus that stared in shock at the scene that unfolded before her. With a wild, guttural cry, Isabeau finally shook off the surprise that immobilized her, electric eyes sparkling a triumphant blue as the super-Succubus wrested control from the gentler heart that wrestled to break free.

Kenzi caught the thrown syringe, twisting out of the way of the struggling women and falling into a dodge like a half-back running with the ball. Her shoulders dropped, her gray-blue eyes focused with a powerful, frightening intensity on the Succubus that screamed in confused fury, and barreled toward her.

Isabeau fell into a solid, defensive stance, her feet spreading on either side of her and her fingers hooking into sharp, merciless claws aimed to maim Kenzi’s face and neck. A snarl curled her lip, teeth glinting in the flickering torchlight.

Vex tripped over the wildly gyrating bodies of the Kitsune and human that kicked and bit mercilessly on the rough, unforgiving stone floor, pressed himself against the wall and slid down the hall towards Lauren’s cell. He pulled the last of his bobby pins from the pocket of his jacket and slid them with trembling fingers into the padlock that sealed the door.

“Hurry, Vex!” Lauren’s shaky voice breathed beside his ear, and he ground his teeth against it while he focused on sliding the bolt of the lock.

Kenzi twisted her shoulders at the last minute, throwing herself into a scraping slide to avoid Isabeau’s tearing claws and aiming the needle straight at her best friend’s backside. Isabeau’s attack, only half-hearted, missed its mark completely. Fire streaked across Kenzi’s shoulder and burned hot and grainy across her upper arm as she connected with the rough stone floor, and she slid around Isabeau’s splayed legs, face twisted in agony and concentration, to barely manage to jab her only weapon home. Isabeau roared in pain and anger, and with renewed fervor, spun around to tear Kenzi from her skidding halt on the ground and slam her against the bars of Lauren’s cage.

The bolt snapped into place, and Vex tugged sharply at the lock to open the door that imprisoned the impatient, twitching woman inside. Lauren darted out instantly, fearful of the damage Bo could cause to the fragile human she assaulted, and threw herself at the Succubus whose control was already slipping.

Inari’s fingers twisted in Maia’s thick curls, her gnashing teeth grazed and nipped at the skin of the arm that reached to tangle itself in her own, dark red tresses. Maia bucked and battered the Kitsune across the back with her casted arm, trying to shake free of the Fox-Fae’s tight, painful grip. Inari yanked down sharply, eliciting a yelp and a snap as Maia’s neck cracked against the sudden motion. Maia was quickly losing this battle, her glasses had fallen and scattered across the floor, and her already bruised eye swelled again against the rough impact of stone against battered flesh. The stitches across her eyebrow broke and unraveled, and blood dripped hot and thick down her face and into the floor. Her hand had lost its purchase from around Inari’s squirming torso, and clutched weakly at her shirt, tearing the fabric while she struggled to pull the thrashing Kitsune close and limit her ability to fight back.

“Bo!” Lauren’s cry echoed around the cold stone walls. It was enough to freeze Inari’s frantic thrashing and steal her attention away completely. Maia immediately seized the opportunity to curl her legs into herself and tear Inari’s head back by the hair at a sharp, frightening angle. The tight fingers in her own hair loosened in surprise, and she thrust her feet with a ferocity that was astonishing in her scrawny frame into the Kitsune’s unprepared belly.

Inari flew back, half-rolling, to slam against the opposite wall with a heavy grunt. Her head cracked against the stone and she lay there, half-conscious and enveloped in a haze of pain and anxiety.

Isabeau tightened her fingers over Kenzi’s jaw, her body pinning Kenzi’s to the bars and the only thing that kept the human upright. Kenzi’s vision swam, her head throbbed with the painful force with which it had been slammed against the bars.

“Bo!” Lauren repeated, reaching out with a tremulous, unsteady hand for the woman she loved. Isabeau’s body tensed, her breath hitched, and then Lauren’s fingers closed over her shoulder.

Bo pulled back, releasing Kenzi from her grasp and stumbling away, head shaking against the anger, the regret, the resentment and fear and desire that engulfed her, that tore at her with their greedy fingers and choked her senses. Kenzi crumpled to the ground, joined there immediately by a bloodied and battered Maia, crouched beside her and watching Bo with a mixture of worry and hesitation.

Bo was oblivious to this. The Succubus spun on her heels to face Lauren, who gazed at her with newly awakened hope and a fear that lingered still in the depths of her bright, tawny eyes.

“Bo…” she said again, her words whispered and mangled with the sob that clawed at her dry throat. Lauren stepped daringly close to the Succubus, her fingers drifted over her shoulders, sighed over the contours of her neck, and eventually spread, caressing Bo’s cheeks, damp now with the conflicted tears that spilled down them. “Baby, I’m here,” Lauren’s breath caught in her throat, the fear that had torn at her fell away like a heavy cloak at the sight of Bo’s intense blue eyes pulsing brown, softening with every word. “Come back to me, Bo,” she whispered, the little distance between them closed slowly. Bo’s arms wound around Lauren, stiff, but gentle. Doubt warred in Bo’s face, the intense cobalt melting, fading into a dark, familiar brown. “Please,” fearlessly, Lauren leaned in. Her fingers wound in the soft, mussed curls of her lover’s hair, her dry breath ghosted against Bo’s hot neck.

Tenderly, Lauren allowed one hand to fall from Bo’s hair and slide down her back. “It’s me, Bo,” she whispered, her voice rough with the hurt and anxiety that constricted her throat, “honey, do you remember? Do you remember the first time we touched,” Lauren’s breath hitched, she left a feathery kiss against Bo’s neck, nestled her lips beneath Bo’s jawline. Her fingers lingered at the small of Bo’s back, remembering the very place they’d stopped the first time Lauren had examined her at the Ash’s compound years ago, “I fell in love with you the moment we met,” Lauren’s voice trembled, but she could feel Bo responding. The Succubus drew Lauren closer, her eyes fluttered closed, both divided personalities reveled in the sensation of Lauren’s murmured words whispered in her ear, in the delicious feeling of Lauren’s fingers in her hair, of her fingers trailing lightly, delicately along her back.

Lauren drew in a deep breath, the sweet ache to feel Bo wrapped up again in her arms finally satisfied, though it was she promising safety, offering sanctuary. Bo was trembling in her arms, struggling to regain the humanity in her that she treasured so defiantly. To come back, to realize the harm she’d caused to the ones she loved, in a woman whose heart was as big and gentle as Bo’s… Again, Lauren pressed another kiss to Bo’s skin, willing with every fiber of her being for Bo to know, to understand, that she was safe, and loved, no matter what.

Bo was breathless. Her heart beat violently in her chest, it jumped and leapt in her throat; every vein in her body seemed to hum and pulse with thin, red heat. Everything stopped. Just for an instant. For one, short, eternal instant, everything ceased to exist. Her whole world wrapped up into a singularity, and she wasn’t two entities trapped in a single body, two conflicting awarenesses struggling against each other.

She was whole again.

Bo’s arms constricted around Lauren’s trembling body, wrapping her tightly in a terrified, impassioned embrace. She gasped for the breath that had fled her lungs and blinked away the tears that had blurred her vision.

“Oh God…” she buried her face into Lauren’s neck, sucking in her sweet scent greedily around the sobs that wracked her, “what have I done?”

Lauren’s shoulders shook with emotion, her own arms around Bo tightened in response, unable to answer with words for the moment. Relief washed through her, and she forced herself to pull in a deep, wavering breath.

“It’s okay. We’re okay,” Lauren pressed hard, desperate kisses against Bo’s cheeks and jaw, damp with the tears that fell freely now, even if her words were more lie than truth, “we’re all okay, now.”

“Kenzi?!” Terror speared through Bo, and she yanked herself out of the safe circle of Lauren’s arms, beautiful brown eyes searching desperately for the best friend she’d almost killed…

“Hey, Bo-bo,” a small, shaky voice caught Bo’s attention, and the Succubus fell to a crouch beside the human that smiled unsteadily up at her, “didja miss me?” Kenzi’s eyes focused slowly on Bo’s. Bo laughed, softly, unsteadily, and reached to pull Kenzi into a tight embrace. Lauren knelt beside them, wrapped one arm around Bo’s waist and the other around Kenzi’s shoulders, the usual animosity and competition between them completely forgotten. Only gratitude remained, gratitude for Kenzi’s safety, for Bo’s return, for the hope that all was not lost.

Maia crept away, clutching her broken arm to her chest tightly, her face a bloody mess of torn skin and broken thread. She pulled herself up beside Vex and leaned against the bars of Lauren’s cell, panting still from the exertion of fighting, and swiped her hand across her eyes to wipe away the blood that blinded her. Her lips pressed tightly together in an effort to keep her expression stoic, but she couldn’t help but watch Bo, Kenzi and Lauren gather on the prison floor, holding one another and murmuring quiet assurances in each other’s ears. She couldn’t help thinking of Seth, couldn’t help missing her, couldn’t help wishing fervently, selfishly, that it was her holding her dearest friend on the cold, bloodied floor of this damnable prison and crying gratefully into her warm, living arms. Her face twisted with that painful wish, her eyes blurred with blood and unshed tears, and she had to force herself to look away to maintain the smallest sense of composure. Her tears, unspilled, quickly dried.

Inari stirred, groaning in pain. Vex eyed her, wary that the Kitsune might attack again. But she only pulled herself up slowly to lean against the wall she’d slammed into, her head in her hands and dark red curls falling across her face and shoulders in a crimson waterfall. The Mesmer strode to her, grabbed her by the torn scruff of her tight green blouse, and yanked her up to her feet.

Inari flailed against him and emitted a high-pitched wail that commanded everyone’s attention.

“Stop!” Bo cried, on her feet in an instant and an expression of mixed pity and disgust clouding her features, “Vex! She’s enthralled, there’s no point in jerking her around like that.”

“Bo,” Kenzi’s voice was indignant, and she struggled with Lauren’s help to gain her feet, “she threw me in a cave, left me there with no food, no water. Why are you defending her?”

Bo grasped Kenzi’s hand, remorse and gratitude adding lines along her tired, almost aged face. She wound an arm around her best friend’s waist, supporting her and consoling her at once.

“I’m not, Kenz. I just don’t like the idea of –“

“Beating on the broken kid,” Maia finished for her. She and Bo exchanged a look of understanding, and the smallest flicker of a smile passed between them. Maia broke their eye contact, leaving the Succubus to her lover and best friend, and carefully picked her way across the dungeon to Vex and Inari.

Vex slackened his grip a little, allowing the Kitsune a little room to breathe around the tightened collar of her shirt, and Inari spluttered, hands around her throat and her eyes dull with grief and disappointment.

“I just wanted her to love me…” Inari choked out, her bottom lip quivering a little. Blood dripped slow and thick down the side of her face, and a bruise swelled over one eye. The melancholy that saturated her sad green eyes made Maia believe it.

“You could have tried saying hello,” Maia mumbled.

From where she, Inari and Vex stood, the vague, muffled crash of battle drifted overhead. Maia tilted her face, ears cocked to distinguish the sounds, and a frown creased her forehead, knitting her eyebrows into a thin, bloody line.

Tamsin, Dyson and Hale had made it inside after all, and seemed to be doing a fantastic job of distracting Jack, Dolph and the Redcaps from the struggle that ensued below, that surely would have caught their attention had they not been too busy to hear its loud, angry commotion.

Maia licked her lips, arid, cracked and salty with the blood and dirt that had dried on it, and turned to face the three reunited women. Bo had Lauren in her arms again, their faces were buried in each other’s hair. Maia could only imagine what Bo might be feeling, to have hurt the two people she loved most in the world in the way that she had. Nothing could repair the kind of blame she must be inflicting upon herself, could vanquish the knowledge that there was a monster living inside of her, waiting to be let out and wreak havoc once again. Nothing: but time, and experience, and self-control. For now, all Bo had to placate her was the love that Lauren and Kenzi offered, and the strength that love gave her. Maia hated to interrupt them, but judging by Kenzi’s anxious expression, wasn’t the only one that felt the need to do so.

“We have to go. I have to help Tamsin,” her voice echoed across the stone walls, floor and ceiling, a harsh reminder of where they still were, of the battle that still waited ahead. The lovers broke apart, though they couldn’t seem to tear their teary eyes from each other, and their fingers were still tangled in one another’s hair.

“Lassie and the Little Mermaid are up there as well, probably getting their arses swept across the floor,” Vex added. He didn’t release Inari from his grasp, his fingers were white across the knuckles from the tight grip he kept on the collar of her shirt. Inari sniffled in agreement, angst coloring her face in a blotched, red mess of tears and blood.

Finally, Bo stepped away from Lauren with a heavy, tired sigh and nodded. With Kenzi’s and Lauren’s hands held tightly in each of her own, she trudged across the hallway and jerked her head at the door.

“Lead the way,” determination hardened her voice and belied the exhaustion that paled her features. Together, with Vex and Maia at the forefront and dragging the sniveling Kitsune along with them, they left the dungeon. The air across the threshold was sweet and cool against their hot skin, a welcome break from the fetid, muggy stink of the chamber they left behind. Maia ached to see the beautiful, calming ballroom again, to lie across the cold, hard surface of the bar and sleep there, to inhale the sweet, honey-citrus perfume it had exuded and bathe in the warm, sunset colors of its walls, its furniture, and its lighting.

Her longing drew lines around the edges of her mouth and pulled the corners of her eyebrows together. She hurried her steps, taking the stairs that led up to it two by two, despite the ache that throbbed in her legs and wrenched at her back and shoulders. The party behind her struggled to keep up.


	15. Chapter 15

The ballroom, when they reached it, was cold and dark. It smelled of dust and old furniture, not even a lingering undertone of the rich, sweet fragrance that Maia remembered hung in the air. They crossed it in near silence, the clamoring sounds of battle growing louder and more urgent the closer they got to the double doors at its end. Maia’s sense of urgency grew with it, her heart thudding in her chest with each step she took. Anxiety for Tamsin’s well-being crept goose bumps along her arms, and her hands grew clammy and cold.

They stopped in front of the closed double doors. Maia turned sharply, a fierce-eyed Cyclops in the dim, grainy light.

“Vex, take Lauren and Kenzi straight to the car, okay?” uncertainty and traces of fear laced Maia’s tone, but her expression was determined and hard, her jaw clenched tightly against the nerves that threatened to chatter her teeth and her fists clenched at either side of her.

“What are you going to do? Take another thorough thrashing from Duncan and his mates?” Vex smirked, not recognizing the hard edge in Maia’s voice, “one wasn’t enough for you then? You take them to the car. I’ll help Succu-slut and the whinin’ Thrall here take the room.” Mockery and derision laced his tone. Vex had no respect for humans at all, and only some tolerance and affection for the one that leaned tiredly against Bo’s side. Even he, bereft of his abilities, would be of more use to Tamsin and her crew in defeating the ‘bad guy’ than a puny, bruised up little girl, he thought.

“No. Take Lauren and Kenzi to the car.” The command, issued between gritted teeth and with a glare to match Vex’s own at being ordered about, was absolute, “and you’d better do it, because I won’t.”

Bo groaned at the stand-off and shoved her way between the quarreling pair, forcing them to break eye-contact and leaving Maia with the last word. Her hand, pulled reluctantly from Kenzi’s, settled on the knob before Lauren pulled her around and into a tight, ardent embrace. Her lips found Bo’s easily, as if they belonged there, and lingered for a long, heated moment before Lauren pulled away again.

“You come back to me. Like you always do. Okay?” Lauren’s eyes were dark with nervous fervor, her fingers tight around Bo’s arm. Bo couldn’t help the tiny smile that ghosted across her swollen lips.

“What if she goes all ‘Carrie at the prom’ on us again?” Kenzi’s light, clipped voice broke the moment, her periwinkle eyes darted from Bo, to Lauren and back again.

“Like a boyscout,” Vex reached into his back pocket again and produced another syringe identical to the one Kenzi had used on Bo, “I always come prepared.” He grinned, the glint in his dark eyes identical to the one that flashed across the shiny surface of the needle in his dirt encrusted hand. It disappeared almost instantly in Maia’s grasping fingers.

“Good. Daylight’s burning, let’s go,” impatience hurried Maia’s words, she clapped her hand over Bo’s, still held absently over the doorknob, and shoved the door open with her shoulder, ignoring the pain that flared across her bruised body.

The tooth-aching ring of steel on marble and the clamoring sounds of battle broke in an angry cacophony around them, escalating the instant the door fell open. They all tumbled inside together, and were met by the grim, bloody sight of combat. Dyson circled Duncan, searching for an in at the Redcap’s vulnerable flesh and kept at bay by the box cutter he wielded in one hand and the spiked cast he brandished with the other. Tamsin darted under Dolph’s flying fist, the daggers in her own hands tearing across the Shifter’s naked flesh and sending a splatter of hot blood across the tainted marble floors. Hale grappled with another Redcap, lips pursed in a shrill whistle that didn’t quite hit its intended target and instead sent a third Redcap careening to the ground with his hands clapped over his ears and the bat he’d carried clattering beside him. Vases were smashed and broken around the edges of the room, their clay and glass scattered in sharp shards across the floor, and water crept along from its sources. Flowers were strewn everywhere, the stems broken and petals crushed and smudged underfoot. The trash that littered the floor mingled with the mangled bodies of several Redcaps, and Walter lay mortally wounded and propped up against the furthest corner. Blood seeped from between the butler’s fingers, staining his once pristine white shirt and pooling around his prone body.

Jack O’Meara stood solidly before them, his hands clasped over the hilt of a handsome one-and-a-half-handed sword. He still wore a suit, and his hair was slicked neatly over his head, unruffled by battle, his clothes and skin untarnished by the blood and gore that was painted across his once handsome, elegant foyer. His back was to them, and he had to turn his face to see as they stumbled in from the ballroom. His expression, thunderous for all of a minute, smoothed confidently as he swept around to greet them.

“Daughter. I had a suspicion that leaving the human alive would be your undoing. I ought to have had one of your Thralls kill her when I had the chance,” O’Meara’s calm voice resounded over the sounds of the battle that raged before them.

“Woulda, coulda, shoulda, asshole,” Maia snapped at him, her face twisted with anger and hatred.

Vex was momentarily stunned by the nerve and audacity of the powerless, trembling human in front of him, and almost missed the subtle nudge of the heel of her foot against the toe of his boots. Quickly, silently, he pulled Lauren and Kenzi along, out of sight of the distracted Fomor and along the outskirts of the skirmish. The door to the mansion slipped open and shut without a glance thrown in its direction by any of the remaining occupants.

Jack O’Meara threw his head back then, and laughed. It was deep, cruel, mirthless and booming. The combatants paused collectively, gathering a quick breath as the sound of his laughter shook them, before throwing themselves back into heated battle.

Bo threw herself into the fray to grapple the Redcap that darted around Dyson’s unprotected back before he had a chance to batter his baseball bat at the Shifter’s head. Hale slammed his fist down over his target’s face, decorating the floor beneath with a fresh layer of snot and blood. Tamsin traded Dolph for Duncan, sliding under the Bear’s lumbering swipes to meet Duncan’s utility knife with her own edged weapon, and sending it clattering to the ground, while Dyson tackled the enormous Shifter headlong.

And then, abruptly, everything seemed to go downhill. The Redcap straddled underneath Hale grabbed the Siren by the ankles and pulled up, sending him tumbling literally head over heels, and twisting off-kilter to crash against the floor. They scrambled for a moment, until a blood-caked knuckle-duster cracked against the side of his skull and Hale was lost to a haze of disoriented pain.

Dolph tore the Wolf out of his tackle, and his fist connected with the corner of Dyson’s chin, and a Redcap, lying dead beneath the Wolf’s feet, managed to trip the thrown Shifter to the floor. Victory sparked in the Bear’s amber eyes. He clambered up, and with a feral smile that was all sharp teeth covered in slick blood, he raised one foot and slammed it down onto Dyson’s ankle, shattering the delicate bones with a sickening, shuddering crack.

His cry of pain, coupled with Maia’s sudden shout for Tamsin to watch out, distracted the Valkyrie from the Redcap that danced and dodged with deceptive speed around her. Duncan darted in under the roof of her inward-pointing daggers and slid on slippery blood around her. His casted arm hooked around her belly, and he spun to throw the Valkyrie to the floor, face down, and toppled on top of her. An empty hand curled around Tamsin’s neck, white to the knuckles with the force of his grip, and he leaned down with his full weight to crush her throat to the blood-soaked floor, effectively cutting off the supply of air from her lungs and choking her, before he straightened over her. Madness gleamed in his eyes, and Duncan pulled his spiked cast out from under Tamsin to thrash wildly at her waist, arm, shoulder and head.

A blood-curdling scream rent the air. Maia hurtled at the Redcap that had already beaten her to a pulped mass of broken skin and bone, and that was threatening to do the same, and more, to the woman that had saved it, protected it, from the Morrigan. With the last vestiges of her spent sense, Maia held her own casted arm between them as she crashed into Duncan, knocking him across the face with the hard plaster, and tearing him off Tamsin to roll across the floor.

They careened wildly, all arms and legs and shouts and clattering across the slick, glass-littered expanse of the lobby.

“STOP!!!” Bo’s voice boomed and echoed around the high walls of the vestibule. Maia felt Duncan shudder, half beneath her, half over her, as Bo’s power over him exerted itself. Dolph, with his massive leg raised again to collide bone-crushingly into Dyson’s ribs, faltered, bright eyes blinking and his wild, wolfish grin wavering uncertainly, before his foot fell uselessly to the floor beneath him. The Redcap poised to slam his fist again into Hale’s bruised, battered face stopped and raised his head, eyes bright in expectancy as they fastened onto Bo. And the Redcap whose arms were held in Bo’s own, who hadn’t even begun to struggle against his Mistress’ firm grasp, who would never consider defying her, squirmed in confused delight and unease.

Slowly, the Redcaps and the Bear pulled away and backed off from their opponents. Bo’s eyes flashed blue at them, and they collected uncertainly around Inari, who still milled unhappily beside the double doors to the ballroom. Jack watched with dark, amused eyes as they gathered, fully enthralled by the Succubus, unquestioningly obedient, even in their state of utter confusion.

Maia scrambled to Tamsin’s side, anxiety filled her eyes as surely as the blood that flowed openly from the cut over her eyebrow and the scrapes left by the shards of glass that glinted against the marble floors.

“Maia,” Bo’s commanding voice brought a sharp, frustrated grunt of acknowledgement from the curly-haired brunette. Tamsin stirred in response to the tentative hands Maia laid on her shoulder and back, groaning, injured, but alive and aware. “Clear the floor.”

Indecision flitted across Maia’s bloodied features. She tore her intent gaze from Tamsin’s shifting body to Bo’s face, and found the Succubus’ attention focused entirely on Jack. The Fomor was smiling in bemusement, the pride that seemed a fixture in his expression was tainted with disappointment.

Maia bit her lip, but complied. She hooked her arms under Tamsin’s and carefully, gently, pulled the struggling Valkyrie to lean against the wall. Her dark eyes never left Bo’s as she crept between the Succubus and the Fomor to lend Dyson her arm as a crutch, and half-carried the grunting, limping Shifter to rest beside his Dark Fae partner, and she almost ran to curl her trembling arms under Hale’s armpits and drag the half-conscious Siren back to join his friends.

Bo knelt slowly to pick up one of Tamsin’s lost daggers. She tugged her own from the top of her thigh-high boots. Her smoldering glare never left her father’s. The Fomor grinned at her, his teeth white and straight and his suit and skin pristinely clean – an immaculate image stark against the gore and the chaos strewn at his feet. Maia stumbled around the room, her breath catching in her throat and disgust burning her esophagus as she pulled and yanked and dragged the lifeless, mangled bodies of the Redcaps Tamsin, Dyson and Hale had felled.

Eventually, the floor was cleared. Only broken clay, shattered glass and smeared blood dirtied the marbled floors of the foyer. Maia crept to Tamsin’s side, body trembling with exhaustion, pain, and panic. The Valkyrie lifted an arm and draped it across her human’s slumped shoulders reassuringly.

Bo raised her weapons in front of her protectively, the angry curl of her lip and the violence flashing in her eyes a clear indication of her intentions. Jack smirked calmly at her, then settled the fingers of one hand around the handle of his sword. They fell into place, and he raised the weapon with an ease and familiarity that was both beautiful and terrible at once.

Dyson growled and struggled to pull himself up against the wall. Even as badly injured as he was, with his ankle shattered and his skin sliced and bleeding over his arms and waist, he would stand beside Bo, to protect her, to fight for her, to die by her side.

“No.” Bo’s eyes never left Jack’s, but no one in the room had question as to whom her words were directed to. Dyson’s nostrils flared and his fierce blue eyes burned with the intensity of his instincts to protect his mate.

“This is between me and you, old man,” Bo spoke to O’Meara, but her order was clear. She never took her eyes off the warrior that slid easily into his fighting stance; her mouth was set into a grim line, the muscles in her whole body were tense and taut.

Dyson seemed to struggle for a moment with indecision. He loved Bo, would give his life for hers, if he could. She was his mate, his one, regardless of whether she knew, of how she felt about him, and regardless of how she felt about Lauren. Her recently-turned platonic feelings toward him did not define what he felt for her, nor would not change the strength of his love, or the resolve of his commitment to her.

But his blind, though noble, actions in the past were exactly what brought them to that point. Slowly, his throat still humming with the growl that could not cease, even if he’d willed it to, he lowered himself back down to the floor. His behavior in the past, his complete lack of faith in both Bo’s abilities and the incredible strength he had fallen in love with, needed to change. Finally, he was willing to accept that, in spite of the fear and unease that plagued him.

Jack’s movements were precise, balanced, methodical, as he began to slowly circle around Bo. In times past, he may have carried a buckler, or a shield of some design, on his left arm. He wore none now, but still held his arm out defensively, with his sword arm raised and leveled, his elbow up and his wrist straight and steady. The point of his weapon shone against the blood-washed half-light of the room, what little morning sun that pierced through the clouds tainted a hot crimson through the blood that splattered the windows and drapes. Bo leaned into her own crouch and imitated his movements, keeping them perfectly even and parallel to Jack’s to keep their circle balanced, though slowly closing.

“We could have done great things, Child. We can still do those great things,” he spoke slowly, evenly, his dark eyes dancing over every possible opening in Bo’s posture and disregarding them all, “I thought you hated the struggle between Light and Dark… the hypocrisy they practice, the brutality with which they rule.”

“And this is so very different?” Bo’s brows were drawn into a concentrated line. Her eyes watched his as they circled around, her peripheral vision picking up on every tiny movement he made.

He struck like lightening, dancing with a flash of metallic light into Bo’s space, the sharp edge of his sword streaked down to swipe at Bo’s unprotected, leather-clad legs. It met nothing but air, Bo leapt up, pulling her knees into her chest to clear them of the weapon’s bite, and darted in at his unprotected side as she landed, just a blink faster than his speedy recovery.

She brushed past him as he swung around to meet her, his left elbow raised to connect with Bo’s face. Hot pressure burst along Bo’s cheek, and a numbness crept into the space below her eye, but as Jack stumbled back and away from her, she could see that her own attack had connected far better than his. Blood dripped, sticky and hot, down the Fomor’s side, through his fancy jacket and his pristine white shirt. The shorn cloth hung at an odd angle, Jack ducked his head and twisted it to get a good look at the wound. Red crept quickly around it, staining his ruined suit and bringing a low, derisively rueful chuckle to the old Fomor’s lips.

“First blood. I’d be proud if it weren’t my own,” Jack barely gave himself time to finish speaking before he pressed back in, keeping enough distance between himself and Bo to prevent her shorter blades from catching him, but swinging his weapon around in a wild, elegant, controlled attack to throw her off balance.

He had been a warrior for centuries, feared and fearless, undefeated, and conquering. Every blow pushed Bo back, dug into her defenses, yanked and shoved against her careful balance. Steel rang against steel, and the clamoring echo of his furious flurries rang and crashed painfully against the marble walls and floor of the vestibule, deafening to the spectators that cringed with every assault.

Soon, Bo found herself pressed against the wall, glass and clay crunched under her feet, her arms raised above her head, crossing her daggers against Jack’s heavy sword that threatened to shear her from above. The warrior swept one foot under hers, and what little balance she’d maintained up until this point was lost. Her breath left her as she crashed to the floor, and only her flailing, screaming sense of self-preservation brought her tearing between Jack’s splayed legs. Like a swimmer at the end of her lap, she’d curled her legs into her belly and shoved her feet against the wall. Her momentum saw her sliding across the floor, glass and clay shards biting at the exposed skin along her shoulders, chest and arms, and only fast enough to escape the full brunt of Jack’s final, life-ending stab down with his sword.

She scrambled back up onto her feet, panting heavily and raising her blades again in front of her. Fire streaked across the calf of one leg, the edge of Jack’s blade had bitten deep into her skin, and her muscles trembled weakly under her weight. Wet heat dripped down from the inflicted wound, warming her ankle where it trickled under her boot and leaving little round droplets on the marble floor where it escaped the soft leather.

Jack turned slowly, dark eyes burning with mad pleasure and an intense desire to control, to conquer, to kill. A smile curled his lips, his sword lowered slowly to his side, and he raised his free hand, palm up and fingers curling inward. His hand was trembling both with the debilitating pain of the wound under his armpit and with the Fae power that flowed like fire through his veins.

Confusion twisted into agonized pain in Bo’s face, her lips parted in a silent gasp for breath before the mangled cry grudgingly tore itself from her throat. The deep slash across her leg began to bubble and ooze, the blood that dripped out clouded from bright red to a dark, opaque brown, and the skin around it crusted black and a repulsive shade of green. Bo didn’t need a medical degree to understand that the throbbing gash across her leg was festering, and quickly. Cold numbness, preceded by a scorching, unremitting heat, began to seep through her, reaching its jagged fingers down to her toes and up through her knee to her thigh.

With a final, crazed crow of triumph, Jack charged in for the kill. He swung his sword up in both hands, point down, and Bo could see the glint of hysterical madness in his dark eyes as she fell to her knees.

Time slowed infinitesimally. Jack’s mouth was wide in a roar that Bo could not hear. His face was twisted in rage and ecstasy. His whole body stretched, arms raised above his head, as he fell upon her. His sword, beautiful, sharp, elegant, gleamed in the weak, tainted light. Her blood shone against its edge, a droplet fell, round and shivering in the hot, muggy air, and splattered to the ground. She was rooted in place, could not move, could not shout, could not react.  She never heard the cry that tore itself from the lips of the spectators, lined around the edges of the room, unified despite their differences in their singular desire for Bo’s survival.

 


	16. Chapter 16

She buried her face into the crook of his neck. His skin was warm, and the ends of his hair tickled her eyelids. She squeezed them shut, and felt his skin shiver against the butterfly kisses her eyelashes left there. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, they pooled against the nape of his neck and warmed her lips. His arms were heavy around her shoulders, she could feel his mouth slowly find the space behind her ear, then creep tenderly down her neck to her shoulder. His breath was hot and damp, and came in short, startled bursts, like her own. Warmth spread between them, close and wet, seeping through their clothes and clinging to their chests.

Slowly, they lowered to the ground. Bo wrapped an arm around her father, their breaths warming each other’s skin even as the sweat that had accumulated there during their short battle cooled it. Her fingers pressed and dug into the strong musculature of his back, and, entangled in one another’s embrace, they fell to their knees together.

Blood dripped and pooled around them. The collective cry that had rent the air mere seconds ago dissolved into the ether, and the room held its breath now, still and silent in fascinated, terrified observation of the combatants as they held each other and sank to the floor.

Jack’s sword clattered to the ground, his fingers finally too weak to keep their purchase on the worn, soft leather of the hilt. He gave a choked laugh, Bo could feel his eyelashes flutter against the sensitive skin along the back of her neck, and the sudden, heavy pressure of his head slumping against her shoulder.

The last, violent seconds of their battle replayed over and over in her head. The long shape of his body as he charged her, the way his arms rose endlessly above his head, the wet, vicious gleam of his sword as it dove down at her. The cold futility that had gripped her. And then the sudden burst of adrenaline that had shot through her system. She slid so neatly, so easily into his embrace. If she’d grown up with him, with Aife, as a family, would it have been familiar? Would she have learned his madness? Would they, together, as a family, have taken the Fae world by a passionate storm, have destroyed the double partisan system it existed in, even thrived on?

Would it have broken her heart to kill him, if she’d really known Jack as her father? The dagger she’d clung to, the dagger she’d always kept strapped above her boot, pressed intimately against her thigh, had penetrated him so easily, as if she had dropped it into its sheath, rather than stabbed it through his belly. And it slid like a hot knife through butter as she rose in his arms.

Bo’s cheek pressed against Jack’s neck. She could feel the struggling flutter of his failing heartbeat. When she pulled away and settled the dying Fomor against the cold, marble floor of his home, he looked up at her with those dark eyes that looked so like her own and so unbelievably alien all at once, with an expression of utter disbelief and mystification.

She traced the lines of his mouth as it opened and closed in an attempt to form words.

“My…” he gasped, choking on the blood that flooded his chest and throat, “my… daughter…”

Bo couldn’t fathom that tears might well in her eyes and drip down her cheeks. Her disbelief in them was so strong, it shocked her when she found her cheeks wet, and the little, salty droplets crashing onto Jack’s face and rolling down his skin. The choked gasp she uttered didn’t feel like her own, and a powerful shock that confused and numbed her consciousness swept through her. She blinked once, twice, heavily, and raised her eyes to stare at the crowd of Thralls that surrounded her.

And then realization settled in, and she drew in a deep, sharp breath as if it were her first in a long time.

Her father was dead. All the possibilities of having him in her life, in any capacity, were gone, completely, absolutely, in the instant in which she sunk her knife into his stomach and killed him. All the questions she’d had, all the hopes she’d nurtured, all gone, breathing their last breaths along with the man that lay at her feet, staring up at her in thorough hopeless perplexity.

Inari crouched beside her, the fingers of one hand burying themselves in her hair and those of the other wrapping carefully over the festering wound in her calf. Bo’s deep brown eyes met Inari’s emerald ones, and found such a well of compassion, worry, and unconditional love there that Bo had to wonder if this was truly the work of her own abilities as a Succubus, or if these feelings Inari had for her were really an intensified impression of something the Kitsune had already felt long before her enthrallment.

“Bo,” Inari’s shrill, anxious voice pulled Bo out of her reverie. The Kitsune was shaking her shoulder gently in an attempt to bring the Succubus’ attention back to the here and now, “you need to feed. The infection is spreading, it’ll kill you.”

Bo didn’t think that, in the short, intense time she’d known the Fox-Fae, that she’d ever heard Inari sound so serious. She twisted around on her good leg to pull the leather of her torn boot and pants around and look at the injury, though she could already feel that what Inari was telling her was true. A frigid numbness was creeping through her leg, had already spread across her groin and lower stomach, and was slowly seeping down her other thigh and up towards her chest. A cold, throbbing ache preceded it, and nausea pulled a dry retch from her throat.

Tamsin, Maia, Dyson and Hale had finally collected around her now too, supporting each other and walking as a sloppy, clumsy unit across the floor to break the small crowd of Thralls that milled anxiously around her.

Inari ducked her head under one of Bo’s arms and pulled her up to stand.

“No. I need to break this bond. Maia, you need to help me,” Bo was shocked at the weakness in her voice. It faltered, her tongue was stiff and huge in her mouth and she couldn’t seem to move it correctly. It curled against her teeth and pressed against the inside of her cheeks, feeling swollen and jumbled there.

“Tear off four long strips of cloth from the drapes. Clean strips,” Dyson’s voice was pale. He leaned heavily against a dizzy-eyed Hale, who possessed the limbs, if not the balance, to hold them both upright. Maia edged out from under Tamsin’s arm, the Valkyrie nodded that she was fine to stand by herself now and hugged her arms to her battered chest, and Maia ran, skidding over the pools of blood that smeared the floor to the windows. “But she’s right, Bo,” Dyson continued, turning his attention back to the failing Succubus, “you need to feed.”

Dyson didn’t need to say it. Bo looked from one potential meal to the next, feeling her hunger begin to cloud her senses out of an instinctual drive to stay alive. Those she trusted the most: Hale, Dyson, even Maia and Tamsin, all looked too beaten and broken to feed from. The little Chi they might spare her would be too essential to their own lives for her to take, and what little sense and humanity Bo still clung to through the haze of her gathering, urgent hunger forbade her from taking any more of what little life essence they still possessed.

She looked then to her Thralls, each of them more willing than the last to give her everything they had to secure her life. She could drain them, each and every one of them. It would not only restore her to perfect health, it would satisfy the hunger that had been coiling and writhing in her belly for weeks now, insatiable and ever present. She was powerless to stop the Succubus within her now. A slow, seductive smile curled against her mouth, and her eyes, bright with the slightest undertone of blue pulsing beneath the surface, settled on the Thrall that huddled under her arm, pressing her cheek against Bo’s chest adoringly.

“Yes,” Bo purred. Her sticky, bloodied fingers brushed against Inari’s skin, her hand cupped her cheek and her thumb flicked under the Kitsune’s chin and guided it gently upward, “I need to feed.”

Inari leaned into the kiss, intense green eyes hooded and cheeks flushed pink with excitement and desire. Bo’s fingers buried themselves into her thick, crimson hair. Their lips met, and thrill rushed its sweet, warm breath down Inari’s spine, flooding her senses with the coppery smell of blood mixed with the sweet taste of spiced cocoa, the sensation of Bo’s hot skin pressed against her own and the sound of Bo’s hair whispering as it moved to curtain that brief, intimate caress.

And then Bo drew back, and Inari felt the sweet, intoxicating pull of her own Chi pouring past her lips into Bo’s mouth. A warm, dull ache flooded her, tensing her muscles, making them quiver with the force of her ecstasy. Inari nipped at Bo’s lips with her teeth in an attempt to capture them again, and felt the soft, swollen flesh slide once between her own before Bo pulled away completely. A soft, miserable whimper escaped her, and she keenly felt the absence of Bo’s arms around her, of the Succubus’ weight pressed against her shoulder, as Bo left her side and fell into Dolph’s arms instead.

“Quickly, Maia,” Dyson’s voice was gruff, whether from the pain that seared through his shattered ankle, the arousal he felt watching the intimate scene unfold before him, or the furious jealousy that coiled and tightened and squeezed in his gut at watching Bo in the arms of another. Maia slipped and skidded back to them, four long strips of clean, white cloth wrapped around her fists and clenched tightly between her dirty fingers. “Wrap it around their hands.”

Bo wasn’t satisfied feeding just from Inari alone, though the sweet tartness of her Chi was, among her Thralls, her favorite flavor. But she wanted them all, at once, together. Her body demanded it, even if all Bo truly, deeply wanted was Lauren. She curled into Dolph’s massive arms, tracing her fingers delicately over the tight musculature that rippled under every inch of his rough, tan skin. The Shifter bent his head, his forehead meeting hers and his pale, ocher eyes focused intently on her swollen, glistening lips.

Slowly, she ran her hands over his biceps, across his collarbone and dipped them over his chest. The cold that had been spreading steadily through her body had halted and shrunk with her first feed, and was now only a sharp pulse that squeezed mercilessly all over her wounded leg. Her tongue darted out and dragged sensually across her upper lip as she stared up at the enthralled Bear, her smirk widened, and a sharp blue flashed like lightening in her dark eyes at the feel of him pressed, throbbing and hard, against her.

Maia yanked one of Inari’s hands away from the Kitsune’s face and wrapped a strip of white linen around her palm. She reacted to Dyson’s instructions immediately and without hesitation, studiously avoiding the erotic scene that unfolded beside her. With the discarded dagger she’d plucked from the floor, she carefully cut a shallow line along Inari’s wrist.

“The wrist I cleave and the other leave,” Maia began; her heart beat heavily in her chest. The syringe she’d snatched from Vex’s hand pressed uncomfortably in the pocket against her hip.

Dolph dipped his head to meet Bo’s lips with his own, his arms wrapped tightly, possessively, around the slender, curvaceous woman whose body pressed so closely to his. Bo’s tongue darted out to slide between his blood-stained teeth, and the coppery flavor mingled with the heady, bitter taste of his Chi as it slid into her mouth.

“With harm to none, thy will be done,” Maia breathed, expelling the words in a rush of air, eyes closed in concentration as she focused on the words Dyson instructed her to repeat. Her free hand slid into her pocket, and her fingers closed around the needle poking uncomfortably into her bruised skin.

Duncan pressed himself against Bo’s back, his unbroken arm winding sinuously into the slight space between Dolph’s and Bo’s bodies and pulling the Succubus closer to him. He pressed his lips to the nape of her neck, his breath hot and damp against the sensitive skin and his teeth nipping playfully as his mouth climbed from her shoulder to her jaw. Dolph groaned as Bo broke the flow between them and ground her hips against his, and he buried his face in her hair, pressing hard, wanting kisses to the soft skin behind her ear.

Bo turned her face to meet Duncan’s. The piercing pain that had seared through her calf was gone, reduced to a tickle where the broken skin knit itself together. Power rushed through her, flooding her body, clouding her mind with the immediate sensations that pressed against her skin, the hands that kneaded the strong muscles over her back and around her hips and stomach. She brushed her lips against Duncan’s, eliciting a sharp gasp of arousal from the gangly Redcap, and savored the sour taste of his Chi as it dripped over his lips and curled like smoke into hers. An intense, sudden craving for honey balled in the back of her throat, making her almost salivate with the abrupt realization.

“Thou cannot harm them, Bo!”

The mouth that suckled around her earlobe stiffened, the arms tangled around her waist tightened almost unbearably, and hot, wet breath flooded her neck and face in a sudden, steamy cascade of released sexual tension. Her skin tingled with the arousal that pulsed in a close, tight jumble around her, flushing against the sudden moans that broke around her face. She had to react quickly, before they recollected themselves and recovered from the erotic, unsatisfied urges she’d awoken in them. She was too vulnerable, pressed between their grasping, grinding bodies.

Bo’s skin thrummed all over, smoldering like hot coals and radiating seduction to dull the senses of the half-released Bear and Redcap that had been her Thralls. Delicately, she extricated herself from between them, careful to keep one hand on each of their shoulders before stepping out of their reach and allowing Hale’s low, soothing whistle to lull them to sleep. They collapsed in a jumbled mass at her feet, dead to the world and snuffling exhaustedly into their arms as they settled into a deep slumber on the sticky, blood-soaked floor.

Inari curled herself around Bo’s leg, bringing a sudden, sharp laugh to the recovered Succubus’ lips.

“Jeez, that kid is all over you. I wonder what Lauren’s going to think about that?” Tamsin smirked, the normal acerbity of her tone brought a collective sigh of relief from everyone around her and immediately seemed to lighten the tension of the dark situation. Still, dark circles yawned beneath her tired, pale eyes, and she leaned heavily on Maia, who struggled forcefully to stay upright.

“What would you think?” Maia sighed, and a guilty, unhappy grimace spread quickly over Bo’s features. “I mean, I’m sure she’ll just be happy you’re alright,” she continued quickly, and tried to smile as reassuringly as she could at the Succubus’ uncomfortable expression. The intended smile came out a flinch, and Maia released her tight clutch on the syringe in her pocket and wound her arm around Tamsin’s waist, supporting the Valkyrie with what little strength she had left. Gingerly, she handed her knife back to Tamsin, breathing another audible sigh of relief as she relinquished the weapon to its rightful owner.

“I donno, the way she was makin’ out with them… and that little bump and grind with the Bear,” Tamsin’s eyes glittered with mischief as she accepted the knife, “whew, I think the temperature went up in here about ten degrees with that little show.”

“Tamsin!” the way Maia scolded her and the flippant, teasing grin Tamsin responded with was met by incredulously raised eyebrows from Bo. Dyson and Hale rolled their eyes, already a little acquainted with the strange little friendship sparked between the human and Valkyrie. But Bo’s lips were parted in mild surprise at the light, unconcerned way Tamsin dismissed Maia’s admonishment.

Still, her surprise at the previously cold, professional acquaintance-turned-friendship served to distract Bo from her guilt and unease. And Bo could only shrug and hope that Maia’s assurances that Lauren would be more concerned by the ends than the means in this situation would be true. She pushed her useless remorse aside and focused instead on the bizarre exchange at hand.

“I definitely missed something,” Bo commented, bending to extract her leg from Inari’s tight, affectionate cuddle. The Kitsune sighed in her sleep and rolled over, arms grasping and clearly searching for something to hold on to. It almost brought another laugh to Bo’s lips, but she controlled it and swallowed it down. When she turned her attention to Jack’s still form sprawled across the floor, her expression sobered immediately.

Bo knelt again, her hands splaying over his arm. Gently, she brushed the graying hair over his temples and felt the rush of disappointment and grief that accompanied the tender gesture. What little she knew of her father were things she wished she never knew, and Bo couldn’t decide whether it had been better not knowing him at all, or having at least a little of her curiosity sated. But now that she knew, for certain, that her father really had been a monster… what did that mean for her? After everything she’d done, everything that had happened in this nightmarish castle, what did it make her?

She curled her fingers over the handle of her knife and carefully pulled it out. It slid through his chest with a sickening squelch, and Jack’s blood, still warm and wet, oozed out with it. It dripped from the blade, and Bo wiped it clean judiciously with the cloth she unwound from Inari’s hand before flipping it in her hand to hold it by the blade.

“Let’s just unbind the others and go,” Bo murmured softly, her eyes still focused on her father’s unmoving face. It was frozen in an expression of surprise, his dark eyes were wide open and staring unseeingly into space. She brushed her fingers over his eyelids, pushing them closed, before she rose.

“Right,” Maia muttered, her eyes darkening again as she turned her gaze to the Shifter and pair of Redcaps that lay slumbering on the floor. She accepted Bo’s offered dagger, and resolutely set about unbinding the sleeping Fae.

It was a struggle for her to pull Dolph’s enormous hands out from under his heavy head, but Maia managed with no help. If she expected a reaction when she cut his ties to the Succubus, her surprise didn’t show on her face when she received none.

Duncan was the last that Maia turned to. She knelt beside him, Bo’s knife in her hands dripping along one edge with the blood of the Redcap leader’s lackey and the last strip of clean white cloth dangling from her fingers. She cleaned the knife on her jeans – the fabric had already been stained irreversibly by the blood that seemed to flow unchecked since early that morning – and carefully wrapped the cloth around Duncan’s wrists. Her face was a grim mask when she turned it up to look at Tamsin.

“What if my hand slipped,” though Maia’s voice was soft, there was a hard, cold edge to it that sent a shiver down the Valkyrie’s spine, “and he died of blood loss?”

“Don’t,” Tamsin warned. She hated Duncan, he was a spineless coward and little more than an animal that Tamsin believed with her whole heart ought to be put down. But whether actually accidental or not, his death at the hands of a human would bring a retribution upon both Tamsin and Maia that the Morrigan would undoubtedly be happy to bestow.

The Valkyrie knelt beside her human, settling a hand gently over Maia’s wrist and brushing her thumb lightly over the back of her hand, “he’s not worth it, Kid. And you’re better than this.”

Maia stared into Tamsin’s eyes, her expression hard and angry, but also contemplative. Her nostrils flared, and her jaw clenched, her lips pressed into a thin, white line. And then her eyes slid closed and she breathed out heavily through her nose and gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.

Her hands were trembling a little when she finished, and she wiped the blade clean against her pants for the last time before returning it to the Succubus that watched with keen interest only a few paces away. With the knife out of her hands and her part finally done, Maia wrapped a supportive arm around Tamsin’s waist again and allowed her body to relax a little.

“You did good, Kid,” Dyson smiled at the curly-haired human pressed close to Tamsin’s side, picking up the Valkyrie’s moniker for her with friendly ease and familiarity, “and now, we can all go home.”

“Good,” Hale chuckled, his eyes still a little unfocused and his smile entirely lopsided, “not that it wasn’t sexy watchin’ you heal your Succu-butt,” he nodded at Bo, dark eyes sparkling with dizzy mirth, “but I think I’m ready to leave.”

Bo offered the Ash a half-smile, happy to see that he still cared, and was still one of them, despite his duties as the leader of the Light Fae, and turned to follow the hobbling group out the door. She paused at the threshold, caught halfway between the murky, crimson light of the building’s entrance and the bright, fresh late morning sunlight that broke through the heavy clouds outside, to leave a last, lingering, wistful look upon the still, lifeless form of her father lying across the floor. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, her bottom lip shivered with the regret that swelled in her chest, then she lifted her chin defiantly and turned away.

 

* * *

 

They took the highway this time, none of their party willing to walk for almost an hour through thick, treacherous underbrush if they didn’t have to, and found themselves on the street-side of the line of trees which hid the truck within twenty minutes. Bo’s Camaro was hidden not too much deeper in. The ditch that dropped between the tarmac and the edge of the forest was deep and steep, and took some careful navigation before Dyson, half-carried between Hale and Tamsin, and Bo and Maia steadying them on the sidelines, found themselves within view of Tamsin’s enormous, beat-up black truck. The doors were all wide open, and Lauren and Kenzi dashed out of the back seat to wrap their arms around Bo in relief.

“Oh my god, Bo. You’re drenched!” Lauren leaned back, unwilling to quite leave the circle of her lover’s arms, to look Bo over carefully and in dismay. She brushed a hand over the still damp blood stains that saturated Bo’s top and pants, it had come away on Lauren’s dirty white blouse and left faint red marks on her fingertips.

“It’s okay, Babe. It’s not mine,” Bo smiled reassuringly at both women, relinquishing her hold on Kenzi just a little to allow the petite girl to wrap a trembling arm around Hale, “I’m okay, actually. I healed up before we left,” she spoke in a quiet murmur, unable to meet Lauren’s worried eyes now. Her words were heavy with the unspoken apology, and Bo bit her lip remorsefully.

“Probably a good thing, Bo-bo,” Kenzi smiled tiredly at her best friend and reached around to wrap her thin arms around Dyson in greeting, “I don’t think the Doc’s going to be of much use to anyone for at least a day or so. At least in that department.”

Dyson dropped a kiss on top of Kenzi’s head and winced as he hopped around to lean against Tamsin’s truck.

“It’s okay, Bo,” Lauren leaned back in to press a kiss to Bo’s cheek, “I’m just so glad you’re okay,” Lauren’s voice trembled a little. Bo could feel the dampness of unshed tears brush against her cheekbone, and leaned in closer, to press the side of her face against Lauren’s reassuringly. So much remained unsaid between them: so much that needed to be said, to be discussed, and apologized for, and forgiven. But now, it was all they could manage to just hold each other, with the knowledge that they both lived another day to say the things that needed to be said, to apologize, and to forgive.

“It’s good to see you again,” Dyson murmured quietly into Kenzi’s hair, his arms wrapped still around the small raven-haired woman and his relief plain in his voice, “we were worried about you.”

“Pshaw, nothin’ the Kenz couldn’t handle,” Kenzi smiled up at Hale, whose relief mirrored Dyson’s own. The Siren held Kenzi’s hand in one of his own, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Although, speaking of which,” she continued, turning a little in Dyson’s arms to give everyone a pointed look, “I could definitely handle a burger right now. Or three.”

“Girl’s been yammering on about food for ages now,” Vex hopped out of the front seat of the truck and leaned against its side, arms crossed over his chest and looking none-too-happy for being dragged out to the middle of nowhere, “can we get her something to eat so I don’t have to hear her whine about it any longer, or are we just going to stand here and stare at each other?”

Despite the antagonism in his voice, the Mesmer grinned good-naturedly at the affectionate hand Kenzi slapped at his shoulder.

Tamsin watched the gang reunite from only a few paces away. Even Vex seemed to have an in with them, regardless that he was Dark Fae and had tried to kill more than one of them at some point in their somewhat brief acquaintance. They were an exclusive group, and Vex hovered on its sidelines, but was still mostly accepted as one of them. Destroying an ancient evil that had been a feared enemy of the Fae did that, she supposed.

A smile that was a little wistful quirked on the edges of her mouth. It must be good to have such close friends. They were like family to each other, and she would have been lying to herself if she denied that part of the reason she’d chosen to help bring them back together was in stupid, twisted hope that maybe, she could be a part of that.

She started to move forward, ready to get home now, to have a beer and get a good look at her wounds, when a hand slipped into hers and pulled her back. Maia stood beside her, looking at her quizzically, with her head tilted to the side and filtered sunlight glowing in her wild curls. The mousy locks burned a dark gold in the sunlight, and her skin looked almost translucent beneath the grime and dirt that caked it.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You took a beating back there,” the worry in Maia’s expression widened the smile on Tamsin’s face by a fraction. The Valkyrie paused a moment, relishing the idea that maybe, for a change, she wouldn’t be alone anymore. At least for a little while. Maia took a step closer, concern twisting her eyebrows and flattening her lips. Somewhere, high up in the canopy, a bird warbled its short, sweet tune. The humidity that had plagued them earlier that morning was slowly dissipating too.

“Tamsin?” Maia peered into Tamsin’s eyes, glazed over in thought, and her fingers gently squeezed Tamsin’s hand in a subtle request for attention.

The Valkyrie’s lips twitched into a grin, and she threw an arm across the human’s shoulders, ignoring the short stab of pain that stretched across her torso at the casual movement.

“Please. For a centuries-old Valkyrie, that was just a romp in the park,” Tamsin threw a swagger into her step, dragging Maia around with her under her arm as she strode to her truck and pulling a laugh strangled with pain from Maia’s lips. Nervous worry crept into the Valkyrie’s eyes as she pulled away and leaned against the front end of her truck, anxious that she’d caused the fragile human too much pain with her mild roughhousing.

But Maia only grinned back brightly at her and gave her shoulder a rough, friendly shove.

“Hah, I guess you didn’t really need me to save your ass in there, then, huh?” sarcasm dripped from Maia’s words, and one eyebrow lifted teasingly in response to Tamsin’s eye roll.

“Just get in the car, Human!” Tamsin chuckled, clearly relieved by Maia’s resilience and playfulness, and shoved Vex out of the way to hop in behind the wheel, “take the back seat, Wolf-Man. Stretch out your leg. I’ll drop you and Hale off at the Light Compound, okay?”

Dyson nodded and mumbled his goodbyes to Lauren, Kenzi and Bo, and slid back into the car with a little help from his old partner. Hale did the same, only running around to the other side of the car to hop in and help Dyson lean back comfortably.

“Hey, um… before you go,” Bo’s fingers hooked around Maia’s elbow, bringing her around to face the Succubus that smiled gratefully at her, “thank you. For coming back for me, and Lauren and Kenzi.”

Maia shrugged, the movement brought a slight grimace of pain to her eyes, but she returned Bo’s smile with a small one of her own and gave a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Not like I could just leave you guys there. I owe you my life, remember?” Her small smile turned a little lopsided as Kenzi and Lauren joined them.

“Well, I think it’s us that owe you now, so thank you,” the sincerity in Bo’s voice brought a light blush to Maia’s cheeks, and she shrugged again and bobbed her head in response.

“And um…” Bo’s voice was nervous, her hand slipped from Maia’s elbow to her fingers and gave them a light, sympathetic squeeze, “I’m sorry. About Seth. I should’ve – “

“You did everything you could,” Maia interrupted hastily and pulled her hand from Bo’s. From the guilt that saturated Bo’s tone, Maia could see her regret was sincere, but the gaping hole Seth had left behind when she’d died was still sore, still throbbing and aching and bleeding, and Maia couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else.

Uncomfortable, strained silence stretched between them for what felt like far longer than only a few seconds. Lauren moved in to embrace the grieving human, but Maia shrugged and stepped back suddenly.

“Kinda need to rush to the hospital here,” Tamsin’s words were short and terse, she turned the engine over quickly and it roared to life before settling into a steady, chugging purr. Maia jerked and skipped away, her smile at Lauren, Kenzi and Bo tense, uncomfortable, and absent in her dark eyes.

“Thanks,” she stuttered softly, and fluttered her fingers in a half-hearted farewell before slipping into the seat beside Tamsin. The truck’s tires squelched over mud and bracken, and slowly, it trundled out of the small semi-clearing to leave the girls and Vex standing alone and somber. Only Vex’s expression was bored as they watched the truck disappear behind the line of trees that shielded the highway.

“Come on, Bo,” Kenzi’s fingers brushed against Bo’s arm, bringing the Succubus’ attention back to the here and now, “let’s go home.”

Silently, the group trudged to the big, yellow Camaro hidden in the clearing not a quarter of a mile away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the 'final' chapter for 'Faevor for a Faevor'. I will be posting a short chapter next week, which is both a bit of an epilogue and especially a tie-in for the sequel for this story. I'm currently in the middle of writing the sequel, tentatively titled 'Where the Fae Sun Rises', and hope to start posting it in the next month to two months.   
> Thank you to all my readers, and to those of you who sent me kudos. It's been such a blast writing and sharing with you!


	17. Chapter 17

It was still too early for patrons at the Dal. The lunch rush hadn’t started yet, and the pub was quiet, save for the music that drifted from the overhead speakers and the muffled sound of a single pair of boots on the scuffed wooden floors. Trick was busy wiping down the bar’s surface to a shine, the industrial dishwasher chugged on in the kitchen behind him and still needed at least another fifteen minutes before its load would be finished: the last load from the morning’s crowd.

So when the door to the pub opened, Trick immediately knew exactly who would be coming through its threshold. He turned his face up to smile at the slender blonde that edged her way inside, briefcase in hand and a troubled expression marring her beautiful features. She didn’t greet him upon entering the bar, only let the door fall shut behind her and strode purposefully towards him. Her heels clacked against the floor, and she dropped her briefcase onto the bar with a heavy thud. Finally, her tawny eyes met his, and the disturbance that filled them brought a worried frown to Trick’s face.

“Lauren,” Trick’s voice was laced with the anxiety that was reflected in his visitor’s face, his heart clenched with it, and he straightened himself over the bar, “you look like you could use a drink.”

Lauren drew in a sharp breath and exhaled it quickly, then nodded, allowing the bartender to pour her a tall glass of beer from the taps. All too soon, she would have to show him the results to the test he’d asked for, and all too soon, their verbalization would turn them into a reality. But she had to keep heart: perhaps it would all turn out for the best.

Foam rose and dripped over the rim of the glass, bubbles glided up through the crisp golden liquid to join the frothy head, and Trick settled the fresh, cold beer on a napkin in front of her.

Who was she kidding? Things like this rarely turned out for the best, and even when they did, it was a long, hard road to the happy ending. And that road was already littered with obstacles and challenges that Lauren was terrified they might not get through. She swallowed down the dry anxiety that clogged her throat and settled her fingers around the glass. Perspiration beaded already along its smooth surface.

“I got the results for the paternity test you asked for,” she began, her throat dry again and her mind a whirlwind of questions and self-admonishments. She pressed her lips together and drew in a long, bitter sip of beer before settling the glass back down, “they were negative.”

Trick’s jaw clenched. Lauren could see the muscles twitch beneath skin and rough, graying beard. His dark eyes hardened with the confirmation of his suspicions and he gave a terse nod, turning to fill a tumbler with a drink of his own. This conversation was going to require whiskey, for him.

“I don’t know how this could have happened,” Lauren’s voice was soft and edged with consternation. At first, when Trick had asked her to perform this test, she’d responded with mild surprise and not a little confusion. After all, she remembered taking a sample when she’d been imprisoned and checking the validity of Jack’s assertions that he was Bo’s father. He had left all the materials she’d needed to perform this test within view, if not within reach, so that Lauren could see that they hadn’t been tampered with, and they’d come out positive then.

How could Trick have possibly known to ask her to check them again, and how could the results have possibly come out different?

“I saw the results for myself, in the dungeon. I know they weren’t tampered with. And I checked these results three times, to be sure,” her tone rose with the agitation that twisted and clenched in her chest, “Jack O’Meara is not Bo’s biological father.”

Trick had set the lights in the pub on dim – the bar was generally closed between breakfast and lunch, with few exceptions: the only event being La Shoshain and the only patrons the ones he trusted and loved like family. The intimate lighting darkened the whiskey between his fingers. It slid easily down his throat, and he relished the familiar, soothing burn that followed it.

“That is troubling,” the Blood King’s voice was quiet, and he set down his glass carefully before meeting Lauren’s unsettled gaze.

“How could you have known to ask me to test his DNA again?” Lauren slid onto a stool directly opposite the old barkeep. Her knees felt weak with the revelation, and the uneasy acknowledgement that something was seriously amiss squirmed queasily in her gut. Why would O’Meara feign familial ties to Bo? Purely to bring the Super-Succubus, when she emerged, to his side? He had seemed to believe it himself: Bo had recounted the details of her final moments with the Fae that had proclaimed to be her father, had repeated to her his final words before he breathed his last breath.

Considering Aife’s history, and the manner in which Bo had been conceived, O’Meara should have known that he was not Bo’s father. So who was it that had made him believe that he was? And moreover, what was the motive for planting that belief? How was this going to affect Bo, when she found out the truth?

“Fomors are a war-mongering race. Much like the Garuda, they thrive on conflict, hatred and blood-shed. They crave chaos,” Trick moved to pour himself another finger of whiskey, and when his dark eyes met Lauren’s lighter ones over his refilled tumbler, they burned with anxious disquiet, “after the Fae War ended, both the Dark and the Light agreed, for the good of the peace, that Jack O’Meara, and the rest of his chaos-loving, antagonistic kin would be… isolated… for lack of a better word.”

The frown that Lauren had been wearing since she’d walked into the empty bar furrowed deeper into her brow. She tipped her glass of beer and gazed thoughtfully into it. The head had slowly receded, and cold, clear slivers of gold shone through the foamy white surface. She lowered her head and took another slow sip, rolling the alcohol around in her mouth to taste the crisp, hoppy flavors while she considered Trick’s explanation.

“Many of those Fae more prone to deviant, rebellious behavior were released many decades, even centuries, ago, including, I believe, Jack O’Meara,” the old barkeep continued, swirling the amber liquid in his glass thoughtfully.

“But Aife was captured only weeks after the War ended,” Lauren finished for him, seeing where his explanation was headed. Unless Aife changed hands at least once before conceiving Bo, it would have been very improbable for Jack O’Meara to have held and raped her, thereby conceiving her daughter. It was possible, but also unlikely.

Trick offered her another abrupt nod, allowing the doctor to draw her conclusions, and swallowed another burning mouthful of whiskey.

“Have you spoken to Bo about this?” Trick settled his tumbler down in front of him, edging the glass around on the smooth, waxed wood with restless fingers. He licked his lips, the warm, smoky flavors of the whiskey clung to his skin and the edges of his short-trimmed beard. He raised his eyes to look at Lauren when she sighed heavily, but she only stared into her own glass and didn’t look up to meet his worried gaze.

“No. Not yet. She has a lot on her plate, right now.” Lauren had no idea how she would even begin to broach the subject. ‘Hey, sweetie, so I tested your DNA with Jack O’Meara’s again. Turns out he’s not your biological father after all!’ She rolled her eyes at the thought, the barest traces of a bemused, unhappy smile crept across her lips. It had already been three days since they’d escaped O’Meara’s mansion, and Bo’s preparations for her Dawning were in full swing. Between that and the attention given to the recovering members of their inner circle, Bo had been preoccupied and stretched thin. They had hardly had time to discuss everything that had happened in that god-forsaken place, there was still so much for them to talk about, and the fact that Jack O’Meara had fooled them all with his claims wasn’t the only, enormous elephant that occupied the room whenever they were together. “But I will,” Lauren continued, her heart in her throat and her bottom lip worried between her teeth, “I have to.”

“And in the meantime?” Trick’s gravelly voice was gentle. There was an understanding in his features, a perceptiveness that told Lauren he already knew the answer to his prodding question.

“In the meantime,” Lauren drew in a deep breath, setting her shoulders back and dropping her chin to her chest so that her hair fell in a curtain of gold around her face, “we research. Someone came to O’Meara and made him believe that he was Bo’s father, and I think it behooves us to find out who that is; we help Bo get through her Dawning in any way we can,” finally, Lauren looked up, meeting Trick’s kind eyes with her own and the first real smile she’d managed to conjure since her arrival, “and we live to fight another day,” she finished simply.

Trick smiled back at her. Human or Fae, short life-span or long, Lauren was a tremendous woman, with a courageous heart and a fighting spirit. She had earned his respect and his gratitude, for the work she did for the Light and for the good she did for Bo. With her, and friends like her, on his granddaughter’s side, he felt like maybe Bo could overcome any obstacle set in her path. So he raised his glass in a salute to the beautiful human doctor that sat opposite him, and his eyes sparkled with the warmth and affection he’d come to feel for her.

“I’ll drink to that,” he intoned quietly. Lauren’s smile softened and turned a little shy, but she raised her own glass and touched it to his. They clinked together melodiously, barely audible beneath the faint music that drifted from above.

 


End file.
